


Some of Us

by yukiscorpio



Category: End of Eternity | Resonance of Fate, The Last Remnant
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 192,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiscorpio/pseuds/yukiscorpio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man with a past he'd rather forget leaves the better life on Chandelier for that of a hunter at the levels below.</p><p>This is a story about differences, the bond between people, the true value of trust and the many facets of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU crossover of Resonance of Fate and The Last Remnant. Please check this post for background information: http://word-games.livejournal.com/103824.html. But if you're familiar with the RoF universe, then all you need to know is how this fic deviates from canon:
> 
> \- Rowen is not involved in what Sullivan does, and therefore his relationship with Veronique isn't quite the way the game shows. Sullivan is enabled by a different cardinal, who is Pater's mother. Rowen is informed about Zenith however.
> 
> \- Pater doesn't receive his star from the heavens, and doesn't die from it shattering.
> 
> \- Jean Paulet is not married yet.
> 
> \- There is no blood drinking anywhere in this story. It could be that some people actually needed it but they haven't realised/nobody said anything. Maybe it's just unnecessary. It's of no consequence here.
> 
> \- This story begins in year AR1138. That is about 2 years after the end of the events in RoF.

[AR1138, winter]

The drawing on the wall grew and grew. It started life as a _NP.05_ but by now it was beyond recognition with its numerous additions. In a way the plan was pretty artistic. If David wanted to he probably could find fame as a new sort of graffiti artist.

"You're running out of space." Standing a few feet away, arms crossed at his chest, Vashyron commented. His lips curled in amusement as David's paint brush reached the bottom edge of the wall. David glanced at him, smiled back and then simply continue drawing, extending the line onto the floor. Well, that was one way of doing it. "How many barrels've you got now?"

"Seven. I won't be adding any more," said David, finishing the line and then putting his brush back in the tin for now.

"Maxed out?"

"No, but the balance would be affected if I added more. And it is called the _Gae Bolg_ , after all."

"So you've named it finally? 'Gae Bolg', that's a weird—"

"Old legend. It's a seven-headed spear." A voice interrupted, its owner walking past behind Vashyron.

"Huh." Vashyron turned around. "Hey, you've made lunch yet?" he asked, and raised his voice slightly when he received no answer. "Zephyr!"

Zephyr didn't even look up from the book he was reading. "Make it yourself," he said, then hopped down the roof hatch.

"Bloody kid," Vashyron mumbled, then turned to David, who seemed entertained by the exchange. "Wanna go grab some food?"

David shook his head. He put away the can of paint and checked the time. "We need to head up soon. I'm sure we can get something to eat there instead."

That was a very good idea, Vashyron decided. Maybe there would be nice meat.

 

They stopped by the scrapper on the way to the core lift, David having some random bits and pieces to get rid of. He never seemed to actually make anything, the plan for his _Gae Bolg_ an ever-evolving thing on the outside wall of the stairwell that would never finish or get built. Not that it bothered anyone; David was fully capable of holding his own without using an overpowered machine gun. Enough so that, a few weeks after his arrival, he was no longer got bothered by thugs when he stepped outside the relative safety of Ebel City's boundaries.

"What is it?" asked David as Vashyron waved his lift pass at the guard and they stepped aboard.

"Hmm? Nothing, my mind's drifted off," Vashyron said, turning around to lean back against the rail. "We need to move house."

"Give it another few months. Zephyr might move into Leanne's room. Then you can have a room to yourself."

The gate closed, the lift shuddered into life and rattled its way skywards.

"Don't count on it. They've been where they are for a few years. If it's meant to be you'd think they'd be together by now."

"Well..."

"Don't worry about it, things will sort themselves out one way or another. They're both sensible kids. Well, Zephyr's batshit sometimes, but they'll be fine," said Vashyron. "I still think we need more space though. Can't expect you to sleep on the sofa forever. And we're accumulating a lot of junk as well."

David smiled. "To be honest, I think you're right. But as the last person to arrive I don't want to make demands."

"I know." Vashyron clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Let's look into moving."

"I can look into getting a place for myself—"

"Shuddup, you aren't going anywhere. Not without us anyway."

They were the only passengers. The architecture changed from red brick to white stone as they ascended, and the air got cleaner. By the time they were at Level 3, Vashyron felt like he was suffocating in cleanliness because he couldn't smell anything and so surely there was no air, though he got used to the change fast enough. David, on the other hand, didn't have this problem. Vashyron had never asked, but he knew for a fact that David came from up here; Theresa only gave him the skeletal outline of the situation, and asked Vashyron to help David out during his first month in Ebel City. She was calling in an old favour so he couldn't refuse — though he did point out his house already had two strays — and truth to be told, it wasn't easy for Theresa to make such a strange request so old favour or not, Vashyron didn't want to turn her down.

One month became two and David was still here. He made pretty decent company, mature and considerate in ways that Leanne and Zephyr were not, and Vashyron would loathe to see him go now. The real reason behind his move from Chandelier to Ebel still wasn't clear, but they all had their own stories, and whether or not those stories were for telling was for each of them to decide.

Besides, David definitely pulled his weight as a member of the group. Like Victor used to always say, if they could hold their own, he could use them.

They arrived at Cardinal Pater's manor a few minutes early and were shown straight inside. Not that they really needed to be guided; they'd come here often enough to know which way they needed to turn in the lavishly-decorated residence.

"David! Vashyron!" Pater called out as soon as they entered the room. He waited for a moment, but saw no one else coming in after them. His face fell. "Just you two?"

"Cardinal." Vashyron did a slight bow before approaching. Not that Pater cared at all. "Just us this time. Leanne's caught a cold and doesn't want to be spreading her germs, and Zephyr's running some errands," he explained, his gaze following David's to the side of the room, where a fourth person was standing, hands held behind his back as he admired a painting of Pater's family. David reacted first.

"Good to see you, Qubine," he greeted. Vashyron followed suit, noting the familiarity in David's voice. It looked like David was friends with the entire household. "What lured you out of your cave?"

Pater grinned. "My brother's helping me with Patertopolis!"

"You don't need my advice; you're doing a very good job." Qubine responded and went over to them. He was dressed casually — as casual as he would ever get, anyway. Compared with his brother's t-shirt and slacks combo, he looked positively formal in his button-up shirt and trousers. "So, what are you two here for?"

All eyes fell on Pater. The young man rummaged through the paperwork on his desk, carefully putting aside some amateur comics before pulling out a map. "A group of gangsters are getting in the way of Patertopolis's reconstruction." A chubby finger jabbed at a particular location on the paper. "I want you to sort them out!"

"Consider it done." Vashyron took the map and rolled it up, resting one end of it on his shoulder. "Is there anything else we can help you with?"

"Is... is Miss Leanne all right?"

Even before Vashyron raised his eyebrows, David spoke. "We got her some medicine. She'll be fine."

"At the Silver Canyon—"

"That's the type we got. She's better already, we're only making her stay another day in bed to be sure." David's voice was low and soothing.

"Ah... okay..."

The two hunters exchanged a look. Vashyron hid a smirk. "You're very welcome to come and visit, if you'd like."

"Yes! Yes I will!"

Upon Pater's insistence, They stayed for lunch before heading home. As soon as the guard closed the huge doors behind them, David looked up at Vashyron and heaved a dramatic sigh, barely able to suppress the upward curl of his lips.

"You are terrible."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

 

"I call it 'Operation Impress the Cardinal'!"

"That's all you have?" asked David with mock surprise.

"Well," Vashyron dipped his head towards David and lowered his voice, "I could call it 'Operation Wind Zephyr Up or Get Leanne a Boyfriend' but that'd be a tad obvious."

"You really think it will end up like that?"

"You don't?"

"I don't." Pulling out his keys, David opened the door to their home. "Do you want to check on Leanne or tell Zephyr what you've done?"

"I'll leave Leanne to you. Zephyr's coming with me to Patertopolis. He's already had half a day off to read his book."

Except it wasn't an ordinary book but the Scriptures that he had been reading, but David didn't remark on it. "He's been acting a bit strange this morning."

"Today's a... special day for him." His gaze cast towards the stairs that led to the roof and the room he shared with Zephyr, Vashyron's face softened. "He's getting better, but getting out of the house might be good for him."

Sensing a story behind those words, David nodded and asked nothing. He shrugged off his jacket, draped it over the back of the sofa that was also his bed, and didn't even flinch when a pensive-looking Zephyr suddenly landed just several feet behind him. He waved when the two left, hiding his worry behind nonchalance.

They never asked about David's background, and he would show them the same courtesy, particularly on a day when things seemed the most difficult. There was only a fine line between respectable distance and indifference, though. David made a mental note to spend more time with his friends this week.

"Are they gone?" The door at the far corner opened by a crack. David almost didn't hear the whispered question.

"Hmm? They've gone out." David cocked his head to one side. "You're up. How're you feeling?"

"Starving!" Bursting through the door, Leanne all but dashed towards the biscuits left beside the TV. "Zephyr moped all morning and didn't even come to look at me, let alone bring me something to eat!"

Curious, David sat down and invited Leanne to join him. "Leanne, is this what it looks like?"

"What?" she asked, a hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep herself from spraying food.

"You weren't really sick, you were only trying to catch Zephyr's attention?"

She glared, then planted her bottom on the sofa beside David. "I thought maybe I could distract him so he'd stop moping for a bit. Last time I was sick, he—" she sighed, "never mind."

So it wasn't the sort of attention David thought she was after, then. At least not entirely. "You could have at least told me. I was worried about you."

"Hehe, sorry." She scoffed down another biscuit, then stood. "How about I make us something to eat? We might have ingredients for cake."

He had already eaten, but if it made her feel better then he would go with it. Besides, what kind of a person said no to cake?

"That would be lovely."

 

"I had no idea Pater is such good friends with them."

Laughter filtered through the opened roof hatch. For a moment David thought about closing it, but that might be a little anti-social.

"I thought I'm here because of Pater's recommendation," he said.

"That played a part, but it was mostly what Theresa said about Vashyron, and the fact that Rush doesn't live too far from here," said Qubine, going to stand near the edge of the roof. His long coat billowed in the ice-cold breeze. "How is life as a hunter then?"

David joined his friend, turning to lean his back against the surrounding railing. "It's good. I'm starting to settle in."

"I thought you might; you already seemed open to the idea back then."

"I was open to almost anything." David looked up. Chandelier was up above, but it was hard to even make out its outline in this haze. "They weren't the only ones who thought I should leave as soon as possible."

"Well, you seem happy enough. I guess that's all that matters."

Coming from Qubine, that was a surprisingly amicable thing to hear even though back when David discussed the move with his friends, Jean Paulet was the one who made all the sad noises and Qubine seemed to have very little opinion on the whole thing. David did wonder if Qubine just didn't care or if he was being his usual inexpressive self. Hearing him say that now, David felt a bit better.

He shifted, pushing himself off the railing. "So, what do you think? Level 4 isn't as bad as you had imagined?"

Qubine frowned. "I've been here on multiple occasions. I wouldn't have suggested this city to you if I thought it was too terrible."

David smiled, wry.

"Though, I have made an observation: this house only has two bedrooms."

David did wonder how long it would take for Qubine to mention this. "Vashyron and Zephyr share that room." he pointed to their left, "and Leanne has the room downstairs. I'm on the sofa."

Qubine stared at David, eyes wide.

"Chandelier had always only been a temporary lifestyle change to me," David added before Qubine opened his mouth to speak. "Overall, this is still several steps up."

"It doesn't mean you have to do it the hard way."

"We might look for somewhere bigger. If not I should be able to rent somewhere myself now. It's not as if there are no options." An eyebrow arched ever so slightly. "Is this why you're here instead of working in your cave? You're actually worried for me?"

A pause, and then Qubine snorted. "Hardly. I only want to know that everything has panned out as I'd imagined."

No surprises there. Qubine was as good at denial as ever. "Everything has worked out the best it can," David told him. "Did you know that Chandelier looks beautiful at night? You can't see that when you're on it."

"It gets dark early these days. Perhaps I'll see it before going home."

Their gazes settled on the faraway structure that now only one of them called home. Then David glanced at Qubine. The words "thank you" were on the edge of his lips, but he didn't say them because he knew Qubine didn't want to hear them.

"Brother! David!" Through the roof hatch came Pater's voice. "Come on down! Miss Leanne made cake!"

They headed for the stairs.

"What's this?" Qubine suddenly asked, looking at the drawing on the outside wall of the stairwell, the diagram of the custom machine gun that David had been designing.

"Just a bit of past time."

"You drew this? And you've escaped Garigliano's attention all this time?"

"The day that man shows interest in my doodles would be the day Chandelier tumbles to the ground." David chuckled. "Let's go before the cake is gone."

 

Having a person drop down from above may be surprising, but if that person was Zephyr, it was more of a surprise to see him coming down the stairs. When he turned on the landing, he peeked into the living room, and found it deserted. Apparently David had left home early in the morning. Zephyr made himself breakfast, then got out his two handguns and started to take them apart.

By the time he had cleaned every part and put them back together again, it was almost noon. Vashyron and Leanne seemed to have decided to sleep in, so when the front door opened he knew who it was before they stepped through. But he hadn't expected to see a second person.

"Thanks."

Qubine took a look inside the house, his eyes meeting Zephyr's briefly. "I should head back to work. Take care," he said simply, and left, having barely stepped through the threshold. There was a weird expression on David's face, something like resignation or disappointment.

"Am I... in the way somehow?" Zephyr asked. "What's he doing here?"

"Oh, I had a funeral to go to this morning, and he wanted to make sure I got home all right."

"Um..." What did people say in this sort of situation? Something sympathetic probably? "Sorry for your loss." Coming from him, the words sounded so hollow, Zephyr thought. But the way David smiled and nodded in thanks suggested he had done it right. "If you want to go back to sleep—"

"That's very kind of you. But I'd rather have some company, if you don't mind."

'Kind'? Zephyr had never heard anyone use that word to describe him before. "Sure." He watched David pour some water for himself. "So... you and Qubine are tight?"

"We've known each other for a long time."

Old friends, then. "Seems pretty decent for someone who almost got made Cardinal."

Glass pressed against his lower lip, David paused, then lowered it. "I was going to ask what you mean by that, but when I think of the Cardinals I can see what you mean. I guess most of them aren't terrible people, just eccentric."

Zephyr had already observed before that David was always quite lenient on his judgment of other people. Whether it was deliberate or if he was just a nice guy, or even a gullible one, he couldn't really tell yet.

"So what have you been up to?"

"Just killing time." Zephyr gestured at the guns.

Right, they were out of conversation. David said he wanted company but Zephyr had never been good at this sort of thing. Pater thought he was good 'hanging out' material but Pater had always been a bit… special.

"Actually I've been wondering: are you religious?"

"What?"

"I noticed you were reading the Scriptures the other day, but I've never seen you go to church."

It was an innocent question that Zephyr didn't know how to answer. If Vashyron prodded him on this he would say he had never tried to hide his past, but people just never asked. But when the opportunity to open up was right here, he didn't know if he wanted to take it.

"I was just reading it. I read everything."

"I do that too. Even cooking instructions on packets. Words catch my attention."

"How about shampoo bottles?"

"And the conditioner."

"That thing? I'd hardly call it 'conditioner'."

"It really isn't even doing half of what it claims on the bottle."

"Vashyron bought that. You'd think he'd buy the better stuff, being the one with long hair."

"I think next time I'll go to the shops with him, just to make sure."

After a brief pause, Zephyr scratched his head, embarrassed. Yes he was a little bit vain sometimes, but he never even discussed hair care with Leanne before, and David was still pretty much a stranger to him.

As if he had detected Zephyr's discomfort, David shrugged. "It's a mad world; creature comforts are as good as any comfort."

Mad world indeed. Zephyr felt a bit better about it. Picking up his firearms, he vacated the sofa to put them back on the shelves under the stairs. David stood near the front door and stared out one of the windows.

Zephyr looked up the stairs leading to the roof. He should go and get Vashyron. He wasn't good at being chatty, and to be honest he didn't care that much either. He held no personal grudge against David — the man had made himself as unobtrusive as possible, and even though it meant Zephyr no longer had his own room, he didn't have one back when he lived in the orphanage either, so whatever. And having one more person bringing in money meant everyone had a bit more spare cash. Still, he didn't know David enough to care much about his feelings.

Again, it was almost as if David could tell what Zephyr was thinking. "I might go out again in a little while."

"Right." That was Zephyr's cue to leg it. David's perception felt deeply strange but it was entirely possible that David was what was closer to normal, and Zephyr and the people he hung out with were the weird ones.

Maybe that was why he didn't feel like he could ever be friends with David the way he was with Vashyron and Leanne: the three of them were connected by life-changing events that had shaped them into something different from the norm, which David wasn't a part of.

He left the room before the silence became awkward.

 

Zephyr actually got as far as the bar, but gave no response when the merry bartender made some remark about him and Leanne, and did not order any drink. So this wasn't much of an improvement — abstinence from alcohol was something Leanne could respect, but being a grumpy, anti-social person who spent all his time hating the world, was not.

"Just give him a water, thanks," she told the bartender, then scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. Zephyr used this time to take his drink and wander to a corner, with windows that offered a view of the Silver Canyon's frozen wastes.

"Designated driver? Or, actually… he does look a bit too young to taste my delicious wares..."

"He's old enough. He just doesn't drink," Leanne explained, then added, "I think."

"Maybe he just wants to watch out for you. What a sweetheart. Normally I'd be annoyed if someone doesn't buy a drink here but I'll forgive him this time."

Leanne gave the bartender a half-hearted smile. Yes, maybe. She wouldn't know, because he never told her. He never told her anything unless she asked, and sometimes not even then. Of course there were things she knew, important things, but that was only because of events that forced them to come to light. In how much detail Zephyr remembered his past or cared about the present, that was still a mystery to Leanne.

Whenever she wanted to say something about this though, Vashyron always put a hand on her shoulder and said things like "let him be" or "don't trigger him". She used to be annoyed at Vashyron for that — Zephyr couldn't hide forever, and yes she knew what he was capable of, but if he really was that dangerous that they should not "trigger" him, then why was he living with them at all? They had faith in him, so why not help him?

But over time, Leanne came to understand what Vashyron meant. It wasn't simply about having faith. "Faith overcomes all" was a saying that only belonged to fairy tales and religion. Whatever Sullivan had done to Zephyr, it was biological and would take time to correct itself — if it ever would. That was the reality that Zephyr had to accept, and the people around him too, if they wished to be part of his life.

"Oh, Leanne, I hear that you've got a fourth person in your trio now, but I've never met them!"

Leanne's attention snapped back to the present. "You mean David? He's been with us for a few months now. I'll try to bring him next time."

"David?" The bartender repeated, intrigued by the pronunciation. "Sounds exotic. Wouldn't your boyfriend get jealous though?"

"Zephyr? He wouldn't." she said with a frown. "And he isn't my boyfriend."

"You're so cute when you're pining!"

"I'm not pining!"

She took her drink and left the bar before she lost it and told the bartender how annoying his giggling really sounded.

 

"Someone got lucky last night!"

"If you're trying to tell us about your latest exploit, then we're not interested."

Leanne was in the shower so Zephyr was speaking for himself and David. If David didn't agree, he was keeping quiet about it.

Undeterred, Vashyron did a quick step, almost springing towards David. He put an arm around his victim's shoulders and leaned in. "You didn't come home last night," he said with more than a hint of smirk, his elbow gently squeezing David's neck. "So, what's she like?"

It took a moment for David to react, chuckling as he shrugged off Vashyron's arm. "I was with a friend."

"Come on, don't be shy!"

"I was with my friend Rush. I think you know him too," David repeated. Zephyr wondered how the guy could be so patient. "It would've been quite inappropriate of me to spend the night in someone else's bed, considering I was at a family funeral earlier in the day."

'Family' — that word didn't get used much around these parts. For a moment nobody knew how to react, wanting to look sympathetic but not quite able to, because in truth they were wondering why David would give up Chandelier where he had family, and live down here instead.

Perhaps mistaking his friend's reaction for concern, or perhaps knowing exactly what they were thinking, or maybe thinking that it was about time for some explanation, David imparted a nugget of information. "My father and I weren't very close."

Something clearly had come to Vashyron, Zephyr observed. He had probably worked out something about David's background. But that look of comprehension disappeared in the blink of an eye, replaced by one of distraught. "Still, I worry about you. What're you even doing at home? Young men your age should be out having fun!"

Zephyr spoke up. "He means you're getting in his way of watching porn."

"You're the one missing it. I don't—"

David just laughed. "If you want to watch TV at night I don't mind."

"Hmm, you know, we should do some nighttime television appreciation together. For bonding and all."

"I'm not sure what kind of 'bonding' you have in mind but I don't think I'm interested..."

At David's response, Vashyron pulled at horrified face. Zephyr nearly laughed, entertained by the way Vashyron was being handled.

"I can sleep through most things, though, so feel free to appreciate the TV without me."

"Are you sure? 'Coz there's this new one tonight and apparently the actress is a lot like Cardinal Barbarella in certain ways..."

"If it's not her face that the actress resembles, then I worry about how much of Barbarella people have seen to make comparisons."

"Haven't you seen what she wears? You don't need much imagination!"

"True. I suppose my problem is it really doesn't leave much for the imagination."

"Oh... I know what kind of guy you are."

"You are free to think anything, I will admit or deny nothing."

The sound of the shower stopped — Leanne would be coming out soon. Vashyron stepped behind the television and put his hands on it. "So, tonight?"

David didn't even entertain the idea. "Zephyr and I are going out tonight. Enjoy yourself without us."

Zephyr shut himself up before the words "I am?" escaped his mouth.

It seemed like Vashyron was going to complain, but he checked himself and changed his mind, said something about showing Zephyr a good time and he would enjoy Barbarella's voluptuousness by himself, his voice trailing off when Leanne came out of the bathroom.

Later on, when Zephyr left the house with David — still with no idea where they were going or why he was going with him — he explained that Leanne got touchy whenever Barbarella was mentioned, and when Leanne was touchy, Leanne was slap-happy.

"Inferiority complex, probably." Zephyr shrugged, his hands in his jeans' pockets. The guns in his twin holsters bounced against his backside as he walked. He didn't feel like he had lost weight, but apparently the strap needed tightening again.

"Or maybe she is jealous?" David pulled his hood up when they neared Rainy Bridge. The traffic lights overhead were green, but there were no cars in sight and they walked down the middle of the road.

"That's what I mean by infe— what, you mean because of Vashyron? You can't be serious."

"Impossible?"

Of course, Zephyr almost said, but then he wondered. Was it really impossible?

"Or maybe you were staring as well, and she was jealous because of you."

"Yeah, right."

"Not impossible."

"No way."

"You mean you don't...?"

"Don't what?" Zephyr frowned a little, interpreting the sentence David didn't bother to finish. "No!"

"Oh. I see," said David simply. "It doesn't mean she doesn't like you though."

"Not someone like me," Zephyr mumbled, and David didn't comment. "What, you like her?"

They crossed the bridge and kept going. A couple of punks crouching at a corner looked up when they heard footsteps, but ducked and shrank back into the shadows when Zephyr glared at them.

David let his friend's question hang in the air for a while, just to add to the suspense. When Zephyr finally looked at him, impatient, he chuckled. "Not my type. Pater likes her though?"

"Yeah. Where the hell are we going anyway?"

David's footsteps slowed. He shrugged and looked at the civilisation crumbling around them, as if he was about to get philosophical the way Vashyron sometimes did, but then he decided against it. "I don't have a place in mind, you just looked like you wanted to be out of the house earlier."

It took a bit of willpower for Zephyr to stops himself from shifting uncomfortably. What the hell? How did David manage to read him like that? What was with David doing things like this as if Zephyr was worth his time? "Don't know what you're talking about."

"My mistake then. Sorry for dragging you out." David didn't seem bothered by the denial at all. He stopped, considered for a moment, then suggested, "how about we turn around and go to the arena? I'll pay for the ammo."

"Sure. Whatever."

 

They got home after spending a few hours at the arena. The living room was pitch black and silent; either what Vashyron wanted to watch had already ended, or he decided not to bother. David started changing out of his street clothes and said goodnight to Zephyr under his breath. Zephyr waved and went upstairs, taking two steps at a time and avoiding the spot on the landing that was patched with planks of wood and squeaked like a dying gremlin without thinking about it.

Vashyron was in bed, but pushed himself up on an elbow when Zephyr came in. "So where did you two go?"

"Arena."

"Boring." Vashyron dropped back into bed.

Zephyr said nothing, because how Vashyron felt didn't matter to him. He pulled off his clothes, found and changed into his pyjamas without flipping the lights on; he was good in the dark.

"Huh."

Just now, didn't David not bother with the lights either?

"What?" Vashyron's voice asked in the darkness.

"Nothing."


	2. Engagement

[AR1138, winter]

"Don't feel sorry for'em. They asked for it!"

"I'm not sorry for them, but I think if they chose a different method they wouldn't have had to die."

"Some people don't 'choose' violence, they resort to it."

"So what does that mean? That nobody would listen to them, so they were forced to fight?"

"It means they kept raising their voices but never improved their argument."

Vashyron put his hands on Leanne's shoulders and physically made her move away from the corpses. The blood of those they just killed was starting to seep from the bullet holes. A witness, sent by the cardinals who contracted Vashyron to kill these rebels, checked for any sign of life while avoiding getting her clothes stained. She was as expert about it as the hunters were at their job.

"What are they on about?" asked Zephyr, noticing that half of their group had been engaged in heated talks for a while.

"Whether or not the rebels needed to die," David told him, "and if people choose or resort to violence."

Zephyr sneered. "Does it make any difference?"

"To some people it does." David put the safety back on his gun, then slipped it inside the holster. "I could be working in a shop or manning a lift, but instead I'm here. Knowing it was my own choice helps me somewhat."

"Helps you how?"

"Control. Because I chose violence before it chose me."

 

The payment for quashing the rebels' uprising arrived almost as soon as they got home, one of the largest amount of cash they had ever made from a single job. They had been able to take on bigger jobs since getting a fourth member, tackling work that was previously monopolised by the few big hunter groups like the Bloody Alice. Which, if Vashyron was to talk to, would express slight annoyance before admitting they were glad to have other groups to share the unholy amount of demands to kill, kill, kill.

And people wondered why Vashyron wasn't religious. Honestly.

Human life wasn't precious, that was a fact, no matter what they tried to preach otherwise. People sometimes were precious to one another, but not to Basel as a whole. Maybe things were different at a place other than Basel, but where those places were, he didn't know. When he travelled as close to the edge of a level as he could and looked out, there was only barren land as far as the eye could see.

If he lived at a place where life was precious, then he would have to care. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea. He was happy to care about those close to him, but to give a damn about every person's life? To have to feel guilt when Leanne looked at the cash they'd just made by killing people and suggested they all went out for a meal together? No thanks.

"There's a new place that just opened in Cranktown, we can try it."

Yes, Vashyron liked his dinner to not taste of other people's blood, even if it meant his level of conscience didn't quite line up with where the Church declared it should. Who knows, maybe he had special immunity anyway since so many of his jobs came from the cardinals. Either that, or this was a very hypocritical world. He had a feeling it was the latter.

"Yeah, why not," he shrugged. Zephyr was just coming out of the shower. "Dinner at Crank?"

"Sure."

"David?"

"Actually I'm not feeling very hungry," David was pulling out clean clothes from his bag. He looked up briefly. "I'm going to pass."

An emergency meeting was called when David took his turn to shower. Vashyron told the others to sit down at the small round table while he dragged a chair over from the other side of the room, then he straddled it and rested his chin on the back. 

"He doesn't want to come to dinner, it's not that big a deal."

Vashyron shook his head at Zephyr; this wasn't what he was concerned about. "Thing is, have you noticed the way David puts his stuff? He's hardly unpacked after all this time! I reckon he thinks we might kick him out any minute, or outstay his welcome, something like that." There was no chance that his voice could be heard from the shower, but he whispered anyway for an added hint of drama.

Zephyr wasn't too bothered. "Maybe he doesn't want to stay long."

"I'm pretty sure he hasn't got anywhere to go. And last week I talked to him about us all getting a bigger place together and he liked the idea. But there must be something we're doing that's making him uncomfortable."

"Not having anywhere to go is hard," Leanne said under her breath, no doubt thinking about her past. "Everyone wants a place they can call home."

The sentiment was shared, and Zephyr softened his tone. "If you're worried why don't you just ask him?"

Ha, the kid did come up with sensible and simple suggestions once in a while. Vashyron considered this, then made a decision.

"As the daddy of this family, I'll do that."

They waited until David came out from the bathroom. Vashyron caught his attention and they headed upstairs.

 

"Some family," Zephyr said to nobody in particular, getting up. Vashyron had always been patient and caring, no matter what he tried to tell people otherwise. Sometimes that patience and care even extended to allowing a homicidal psychopath live under his roof, feed him, clothe him, give him a new haircut, a new name and a new life.

Zephyr didn't like thinking about it too much. It was more stuff to feel guilty about and he had enough guilt to deal with already.

"Shouldn't we go as well? Make it a family meeting?"

They listened for the footsteps upstairs, through the hatch in the ceiling. Vashyron and David paused, and then David suggested they chat in Vashyron's room.

"Guess not," replied Zephyr.

Not too long later, Vashyron reappeared, alone. He pointed above their heads. "He's fine, just getting some air."

Whatever Vashyron has just learned, it didn't look like he would be sharing the knowledge.

"So..."

"He wants to stay. He isn't used to having a place to put roots down, that's all," Vashyron told Leanne. His gaze swept across the room, falling onto the hold-all that contained all of David's belongings, an entire life stored in one bag.

Then a thought came to Vashyron, although it seemed completely unrelated.

"You know, I'm kind of tired from the job today. Let's eat somewhere closer to home instead."

Zephyr glanced upwards. "What, Level 7's too rough for him?"

That earned him a smack on the head from Leanne. "Don't be mean!"

The damn brute. "I was kidding! What's your problem?"

Before Leanne could reply, David jumped down from above. He chuckled, clearly having listened to the conversation then picked the right moment to make his entrance, and headed for the door.

"Let's go and get dinner. Anywhere but Cranktown."

 

The phone at their house didn't often ring. Leanne, having spent most of her life living in semi-isolation, still found it weird to talk to people for long stretches of time or over a machine. Zephyr simply didn't use it, and probably didn't even know the number. Vashyron got calls sometimes, from friends and women — some of whom were also friends, some just acquaintances who liked to reacquaint every now and then. Most other calls they received were of a work nature, and it would be accurate to say that they received more mail than telephone calls. So when the phone did ring, attention was drawn and interests were peaked.

Especially when the caller asked for David.

When Vashyron noticed Leanne passing the receiver to his newest — although not that new anymore — housemate, he made sure he was at the right place to listen in.

"Oh! Yes… yes, I'm sorry. I know I haven't called for five whole days... Would you stop telling me off for a second? Yes, of course I've missed you. How're you?"

When David picked up the whole telephone and took it with him to the sofa, as if expecting a long conversation, Vashyron tiptoed to Leanne. "Who is it?"

Leanne shrugged. "Don't know. It's a guy."

Vashyron pulled a face, disappointed.

If David noticed the exchange, he didn't show it. His face, as he listened to the caller, was serious. And then something changed, and he suddenly stood up, and smiled the widest his housemates had ever seen him. "Are you serious? This is great news, congratulations!

"I— I can't. I'm honoured that you asked, but that's just not appropriate.

"I know. There is nothing more I'd love... yes, I was only there for two hours and people were already talking... Pater got into trouble I think… this isn't about me, it's about not wanting to make other people's lives difficult, you know that.

"I'm sure it'll still be perfect without me."

As the call went on, Vashyron and Leanne exchanged a look, neither of them quite sure if it was good or bad news that David was listening to. If there was such a thing as melancholic happiness, then David was the perfect depiction of it when he hung up, sat down, sighed, and smiled to himself.

Testing the waters, Vashyron slid into the seat next to David. "That sounded intense."

"He's always like that," replied David with a fond smile. "Very passionate."

That was a word Vashyron only ever used to describe people in bed but he didn't feel like picking on David's ponsy vocabulary.

"Knowing him, he might ring again soon and go on for a few hours. If you need to use the phone, just let me know and I'll tell him to call again later."

"I'm sure we'll be fine. None of us use it much."

"Thanks."

The phone didn't ring again despite David's prediction. The next invasion from the world outside came in the form of the doorbell. Zephyr, being on the roof and therefore able to see who the uninvited visitor was, peered down the roof hatch with both eyebrows raised.

"Why the hell is— "

David looked up inquisitively but didn't wait until Zephyr finish before answering the door, bringing him face-to-face with the heartthrob of Basel.

"You are going to be the best man at my wedding," said a mildly irritated Cardinal Jean Paulet, "or I'm not getting married."

"You've come all the way down here to tell me that?" David's shoulders sagged by several degrees. He tilted his head to one side and smiled. "You know these things are out of my control."

The two studied each other for a moment, then Jean Paulet moved first, stepping through the door and putting his arms around David, squeezing with the power of a thousand suns. He was a good three inches shorter than David, even with his heeled boots. "Mon ami! I haven't seen you for so long! You look well!"

"I _am_ well." David laughed, gently slapping Jean Paulet's back a few times. "But my ribs are going to crack if you keep this up."

"You deserve it," said Jean Paulet, although he did let go, and followed David inside. "You visited Qubine and Pater, and I thought _I_ was your best friend!"

"I went to Pater's for a job. Even that turned out to be a bad idea; you know how much people talked afterwards. It's far too soon for me to travel up to Chandelier again," said David, gesturing for his friend to take a seat. "Tea?"

"Tea would be lovely. That is why I've come to see you. And I'm not leaving until you agree to be my best man. I'm not getting married without you!"

"That's the sort of thing that made Emmy think we were a couple in the beginning."

A collective gasp could be heard around the house.

"That's in the past! She's going to be my bride!"

"So how would that work, if I can't go up?"

Jean Paulet rearranged the cushions before lowering his backside onto the sofa. "I can have my wedding on this level."

David nearly dropped the teapot, one of the few stranger personal possessions he brought with him when he first arrived. "Don't be ridiculous, JP." He poured four mugs of tea, handing two to Vashyron and Leanne, who had been standing just outside Leanne's bedroom, flabbergasted by the cardinal's appearance and the subsequent conversation. Then David looked up. "Zephyr, would you like some tea?"

"Er, no, I'm fine."

David nodded and took the two remaining mugs for himself and Jean Paulet.

"Emmy would want to get married in the Square Garden."

"She is marrying me, not the garden!"

"You can't ignore what she wants because of me. I'm sure that's not how marriage works."

"I will talk to her, David." Jean Paulet stressed the second syllable of David's name even more than usual, as if it came from some foreign tongue. "We will have our wedding at a lavishly decorated venue. It will be intimate, only a selected few — including you — will know the location. Saves me from having to deal with a long guest list full of people I don't really want to see and anyone who might try to gatecrash."

"Do you think Emmy will be happy with that?"

"Of course she will. She loves me!"

"I'm not sure if she will love _me_ if you really do this." David snorted gently, and they both sipped their teas. During the silence, Leanne cleared her throat and tentatively entered the pair's field of vision.

"Um, hi."

It took no time at all for recognition to flash in Jean Paulet's eyes. "The inspiration for my statue!" He put his mug down, stood, and did a quick bow. "How lovely to see you again! Jean Paulet, at your service!"

The sheer force of Jean Paulet's passion made Leanne take half a step back and chuckle, uneasy. "Nice to see you too. So, you two are friends?"

"Interesting that you should ask! David and I are so much more than friends." Jean Paulet whipped around. David was smiling above the brim of his mug, but he took a moment to make one point.

"Your choice of words was precisely why your wife-to-be thought we were dating."

"But it is true! You and I aren't just friends — we're the very best of friends!" Jean Paulet placed a hand on David's shoulder. "And that is why you are going to be my best man!"

"If the situation allows, I would be honoured. But please think about the important things first."

"Mon ami." Ignoring Leanne for the moment, Jean Paulet took the tea away from David and put both hands on his shoulders. He leaned a little closer, and spoke with a calm seriousness rarely seen from him. "If I say it can be done, that is because I know it can be done. It is of no trouble to me or my fiancée, and no one else will be troubled by your presence, I will make sure of it. The only thing you need to worry about is what to wear on the day — actually, I will take care of that too. So don't worry about a thing."

Touched by the words, David dipped his head. The hands on his shoulders squeezed gently, Jean Paulet waited for a response.

"I will worry if you are choosing what I'll wear."

"Does this mean..."

"I'll be your best man as long as you let me pick my own clothes."

Jean Paulet threw his hands in the air, his mannerisms back to how they had always been known. "Magnifique! Oh, heavens, it will be the happiest day of my life!" He seemed to have forgotten about Leanne entirely. "I'll even invite Qubine. He can be my page boy."

Even David had to suppress a chortle. "Good luck with that."

"Come on, mon ami. Let's find somewhere quiet where we can talk about this over cakes and a decent cup of coffee. In fact I think I know a place. Let's go."

With that, David was dragged by the wrist out of his own home.

Vashyron and Leanne exchanged bewildered looks with Zephyr, who was peering down the roof hatch.

"Well, that was weird."

 

A week after that, Zephyr got home one evening and found a tree in the house.

"I don't know where he got it from," Leanne told him, pointing at Vashyron, who was busying himself with it. Standing to one side, David was also watching in amusement.

It was quite a cool-looking tree, the sort that people called a "Christmas tree", as tall as Zephyr, and it smelled pretty nice, like cold, clean wood, earthy and comforting. The leaves were more like little needles, and as Vashyron positioned the tree, they shook and some detached themselves from the branches.

After some pushing and pulling, Vashyron finally straightened himself, satisfied with the location. "From Cardinal Theresa. Isn't she lovely."

"What does she want us to do this time?" Zephyr stumbled a step back, recalling what happened a few years ago. "Cos I'm not getting in that costume again!"

"Nah. Cardinal Pater is doing it this year, apparently he loves it. The tree is just because Theresa is a nice person."

"It's pretty expensive isn't it? Why'd she give us something like that?"

"For a cardinal it's just spare change. You know how she likes to spread the cheer. And it's only a week 'till Christmas."

And then it suddenly clicked in Zephyr's head. It was probably really for David, since Theresa was the one who asked Vashyron to help David out when he first arrived. If Zephyr didn't know that David's father only recently died, he would have guessed that he was related to Theresa somehow. But that was very unlikely.

Leanne clasped her hands together, excited. "Oh, we can decorate it! I saw some really nice sparkly baubles at a shop!"

At this point, David uncrossed his arms and spoke up. "That's a great idea. Why don't you go and get some? If you relied on us I think the tree would end up looking dreadful."

"Well, maybe not you, but if I left it to those two," Leanne replied, giving Vashyron and Zephyr a look. "I'll go and get them now, before someone else buys them!" She was out of the house before the two men could complain about her comment.

After waiting a few moments to make sure Leanne wasn't going to come back for something, David went to his remaining housemates.

"I was wondering what birthday presents you got her, so that I can avoid..." his voice trailed off, having seen the way Vashyron and Zephyr's faces changed. "Let me change my question: what do you think you will try to get her, so that I don't buy the same thing?"

"Oh, shit."

It was such an important day of their lives and on such an easy date to remember, how had Zephyr managed to forget about it this year?

David stopped himself from sighing. "You should be quite good at finding presents for women," he said to Vashyron, before turning to Zephyr. "I am going to try to get her something now. Do you want to go with me?"

They ended up at a boutique on the other end of Ebel from where Leanne should be shopping. Zephyr stared at the rail of women's clothing like he was staring at a jungle. How was he supposed to pick? "I don't even know what size she wears."

"Neither do I, but probably a small." David looked a bit puzzled too. "If in doubt, get something that doesn't require sizing, like hair accessories?"

"Got that last year."

"A handbag?"

"The year before."

Pursing his lips, David thought for a second and then went to talk to the woman behind the counter, picked up a pair of boots and put them in Zephyr's hands.

"She says Leanne tried these on before and really liked them. Size 6."

"Uh, thanks."

That was easier than expected. Zephyr took the boots to pay, David still browsing for a gift himself. Sweet, it seemed like David had already talked the woman into giving him a discount because damn, there were expensive. But the woman had that knowing smile that suggested she was about to make some remark that Zephyr wasn't going to like.

"Leanne really loved these shoes. How lovely of your brother to help you out and look after you."

Yes, he was a bit anti-social and he probably would have picked the wrong gift if left by himself, but this woman wasn't the best at not pissing off her customers, Zephyr thought. Also, his brother? Seriously, couldn't she tell from their skin colours that they weren't related? Did all blonds look the same or something?

"He's not my brother," he jabbed a thumb towards David's direction. "Just a housemate."

"Zephyr is the one who has been taking care of me," said David, picking up a pair of gloves and showing it to the woman, who shook her head and gestured for him to choose the pair next to them instead. "In that sense he is actually like my younger brother, when I think about it."

Him, taking care of David? Like his little brother? Zephyr managed to swallow his questions and waited until they left the store, walking on snow that had been trod on so much it had become grey slush.

"You have a brother?" Maybe he shouldn't be asking but David brought it up himself first.

"His name is Paris. Two years younger than me, but taller. We don't look alike."

Paris. Theresa. Jean Paulet. Zephyr ran over the connections in his head. Now it all made sense. "You're Cardinal Paris's older brother?"

"Half brother. I'm illegitimate. My father found me at Cranktown and took me to Chandelier, but after he became seriously ill, he couldn't recognise anyone or remember anything, so his wife ran the house. I couldn't really stay then."

A fellow ex-Cranker. Zephyr had no idea. "Oh. Right." He searched his head, trying to make conversation. "That doesn't sound nice, but guess you didn't have a choice."

"She never personally asked me to leave, but there were other forces at work. In any case, she'd spent enough years putting up with having another woman's son under her roof, I felt I shouldn't stay," said David without a single hint of annoyance. "She is a lovely person who had been very civil to me, all things considered. I wonder if it'd be okay for me to send her a Christmas card..."

Zephyr really didn't know what to say to that.

"Sorry, I should've told you sooner but I wasn't sure how long I'd be allowed to stay with you all."

"I don't think you need to apologise. It doesn't really change anything."

"Thank you."

"And if it means we get a tree every year... then you're all right to me."

The nonchalance in Zephyr's voice made David smile. "I should make sure I save up for a tree every year, then."

"Wait, that was from you?"

"I wasn't sure if you were the tree kind of people, if you weren't then I could blame Cardinal Theresa," said David, wry. "By the way, what was that you mentioned earlier? She made you wear costumes?"

"Oh God, I don't even want to think about that."

"You can't not share the story now."

"Go look in Vashyron's wardrobe when we get home."

 

"He's dead since a few years ago. His wife's carrying on though, the old witch ain't gonna die."

"Ah. How about that burly man who always camped out at the inn at Solam Street? Gregory?" David opened their front door, finding only Vashyron at home. Leanne must still be doing her shopping.

"'The great adventurer' MacGregor? Yeah he's still there being a nuisance." Zephyr arched an eyebrow at his tallest housemate, who was gaping at him.

"You guys go on a shopping trip and suddenly you're bros? That's not fair! It took two years for you to say that many words to me!"

"David hadn't shot me in the head," was Zephyr's explanation. He shrugged when David made a sound of surprise. "Long story."

"I look forward to hearing about it some day," said David with great trepidation. He put down his shopping. "Let's go and get these wrapped and under the tree."

"I take it back — you two aren't bros, you're totally girlfriends," Vashyron said, even though he was already reaching for the gift wrap. "By the way, they've sorted the contract problem next door, we can move in after Christmas once we pay up. So we better decide which two of us are going to move."

"I'll go with him." Zephyr and David said at the same time, pointing at each other.

"What? Why?"

"He hadn't shot me in the head or hit me with a frying pan." Zephyr snatched the gift wrap from Vashyron and sat down on the floor.

"What? I did it out of love! Love!"

"Where's the tape?"

David found it in one of the hatches of the vending machine they used as a coffee table. "Who used to live next door?"

"Some old man. We killed him a while ago but there was some legal stuff on the lease or something..." Zephyr glanced up to take the tape and saw the look on David's face. "We didn't kill him for the house! It was a job. He turned out to be the leader of a terrorist gang. Crazy stuff."

"I see..."

"Hey!" Sidelined and ignored, Vashyron threw his arms in the air. "Daddy gave you shelter, clothed you, raised you, and this is what I get?"

"You know what, David? Leanne might come back any minute. Let's do the wrapping somewhere else."

"Sure."

Watching the two disappear upstairs, Vashyron smiled to himself before taking a deep breath and shouting,

"I hate you guys!"


	3. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte (23) is Jean Paulet's younger sister in this story. In TLR she started off a bit wibbly but by the end of her sidequests she'd become stern and independent. The Charlotte here is the latter Charlotte, who's been dating Paris since they were teenagers. She's a very smart young woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.

[AR1138, winter]

Instead of going there upon request, Vashyron decided to take the initiative and visit Theresa this year. He must be getting old; he was starting to treasure little connections with people in a way he never did before.

Plus, this time he could talk his way out of going to Lucia before she tried to send him there again in a poorly-disguised job.

Being the one to make contact, though, didn't make it entirely easier. Talking to Theresa was still talking to his friend's widow. On top of age and class differences, it was also trying to make polite conversation without knowing where the boundaries were — she brought up Victor once in a while and seemed to have no problems with it, but Vashyron had and he would not believe for a single minute that the mere mention of the name didn't hurt her.

"How are your Christmas preparations coming along?" she asked, pouring him a glass of warm mulled wine.

"We're going all-out this year. The decorations are up. Even got a tree this time. David's got a thing for lights so there are lights everywhere."

"Oh, so you've been busy then," she leaned back in her seat, lifting a glass to her lips. "No chance of enticing you to help with gift-giving this year?"

"Absolutely not."

"I thought so. Pater said he has arranged something different this time anyway, so we should all wait and see." She chuckled. "But it's good to hear you are enjoying yourselves. Isn't it lovely to have some young people in the home, everything becomes so much more lively."

Poor Theresa. Such a gracious woman, in such a big home, all by herself. "It depends on how you look at it really. Like that Zephyr, he doesn't grow up," in more than one sense of the term, "after a few years... well, I'm surprised that I haven't strangled him yet."

That made her laugh. "But he seems such a sweet boy, especially when he's with Leanne."

"Apparently it's with anyone except me."

"Oh, so I assume David is getting on well with everyone then?"

"Yup. I don't know what his trick is, but it's working on Zephyr."

"He does have that effect on people." Theresa said, looking out the window. She liked to stand on her balcony to enjoy the view, but the weather was not kind today. "If he was younger and the politics less complicated, I think I would have adopted him. Victor would have approved, I think, and this house needs an heir."

Vashyron made a show of nearly spilling his wine. "And sending him to me was the next best thing? Really?"

"Don't belittle yourself, Vashyron. I trust Victor's judgement, and I think I've got a good eye for people too." She had a look that said she had seen, and seen through, too many. "How about we do a toast? To friends, past and present."

Vashyron sighed, and raised his glass.

"To friends."

 

"Who finished the chocolate spread and put the empty jar back in the cupboard?"

"Not me."

"Not me."

Leanne stormed over to the only person who had not yet responded. "David! You troll!"

"Sorry, it must've been me then," David grimaced. "I'll get a new one."

"Now what do I put on my bread?"

"Oh no, no chocolate on my bread. The pain, the trauma," Zephyr droned, his eyes not leaving the book he was reading. "My suffering is so Level 4."

Leanne was marching over. Good grief, she really was going to kick off over something as dumb as that. Zephyr slipped a bookmark between the pages he was reading in case he lost the place, but David stood up before Leanne made whatever her next move was going to be. "My fault. I'll go and buy some from the shop. Does anyone need anything else?"

Zephyr closed his book. Yes, getting out of here when Leanne was PMS-ing sounded like a good idea. "I'll go with you."

They went to get their shoes. Behind them, Vashyron was sighing. "Kids, both of you."

Leanne was not happy with that analysis. "He started it!"

"He has a point."

David and Zephyr quickly left the building. The shop was only a few doors down, and quiet considering what time of year it was.

"It's so noisy in there," Zephyr muttered, "I can't read when she's in a mood."

"She wasn't in a mood to start with. I think you need a crash course on women." It sounded like David found this quite funny. "Anyway, she told me that you saved her life a few years ago. If chocolate spread is the biggest thing she has to worry about now, think how much her life has improved thanks to you."

Zephyr wasn't impressed. "I didn't save her so that she could become a spoilt brat."

"Maybe she's just trying to distract herself from other things on her mind."

"How do you know?"

"It's just a guess."

"Are you always like that? Giving people excuses?"

"I don't think so? But sometimes things are more complicated than they look."

"People are gonna walk all over you if that's how you live."

"I know." David chuckled. Rush had warned him about becoming a doormat before, even though he knew exactly how hard David could hit if he chose to. "But it's true, things are not always what they seem. I left the house for the shop, but that's not because I had to get chocolate for Leanne right now. You don't like to talk about yourself, that's probably not because you have trust issues. Vashyron said he visited Cardinal Theresa because it's good for business, but we both know that's not the reason. Leanne's probably getting anxious because it's almost her birthday, or time of the month, or something."

Zephyr found the chocolate spread, and put it in his basket along with some snacks. He saw what David did there, but he wasn't bothered. "So why did you come here if you didn't have to do shopping right now?"

"Because it was too noisy in there."

David wasn't too nice, Zephyr suddenly realised, he was smooth and he played a brilliant game. In a way that didn't annoy Zephyr at all. He started laughing before he could help it, and pushed the shopping basket at David.

"Yeah, cool, but you're still paying."

"Damn."

 

The meat looked dubious — less so than a lot others David had tried before, but still — and it was smothered in sauce, but it smelled glorious. "Thank you." He accepted the paper plate from Pater, who ran back towards the stall to get more. Qubine sighed, shook his head and went to help. Soon the whole group was equipped with hot food and drink, and they found a table to stand around and eat at.

"Well! This is quite a change from the norm, but I have to say I'm enjoying myself! Excellent job, Pater!"

As Pater basked in Jean Paulet's praises, Zephyr said under his breath, "as long as you don't ask where the meat came from. It's probably too rough for your delicate system."

David promptly coughed to disguise his laughter.

For Christmas this year, Theresa had handed over the organisation reins to Pater, who decided to recreate a sort of "wonderland" he had read about in an old book. At the Square Garden, instead of getting gifts, children as well as adults were invited to enjoy food, play games and go on fairground rides.

"Gifts are great, but memories are better," said Pater.

Nobody could argue with that.

The sun was starting to set, and the lights came on one by one. Multi-coloured lightbulbs lit the faces of the visitors, and gave their food a strange hue. Luckily they were just about done eating. "Come on!" Pater put down his disposable fork and waved his arms a bit. "Let's go on the ferris wheel!" he told Leanne, pointing at the structure up ahead. As they ran off, the rest of the group looked at each other, an unvoiced agreement reached that they should let the two do their own thing.

"I know the rest of us are just an excuse, but there's free food so I ain't complaining," Vashyron concluded, eating what was left on Leanne's plate. "Anyone want to go on that mini rollercoaster?"

Paris and Jean Paulet's fiancee Emmy both perked up. "I do!"

When nobody else expressed interest, Vashyron went to the ride with Paris and Emmy, leaving Jean Paulet, his sister Charlotte, Qubine, Zephyr and David behind.

"I thought it'd be your sort of thing," David said to Zephyr.

"Once you've seen how they put those things up you won't want to ride on them. I used to—" Zephyr cut himself off, looking confused. "Nevermind."

Zephyr couldn't remember, but David could. Travelling fairgrounds liked to employ local children to put up their stands and rides because labour was cheap. David had memories of earning a bit of pocket money here and there by screwing the bolts onto these things, probably not as tightly as they should be and sometimes not even where they should be. These rides were often rickety for a reason.

But they were perhaps just being cynical. With Pater as the project manager, the rides here must be of a higher standard, especially since he was about to take Leanne on one of them.

Vashyron earlier comment was just jest, though. Pater had always liked spending Christmas with friends and family, and ever since he became cardinal, he always invited friends to his manor after all the standard festivities: the mass, the family lunch, and the gift giving. David, never having been comfortable being in his own home during a family holiday because of Paris's mother, preferred to spend his time at Pater's instead.

This year, Pater's invitation to David probably cost him a bit of goodwill, but hopefully his obtuse appearance and Paris's attendance would help divert any actual trouble; there were people who didn't think David had any place in Chandelier and his existence was a direct threat against Paris's cardinalship. Pater could only act dumb on this subject once, though. It wasn't going to work again.

David was determined to enjoy being able to spend an afternoon with both of his best friends, as this was going to be a rare occurrence from now on. His eyes falling on a nearby games stand, he caught their attention. "JP, Qubine, come with me."

They stopped before the hoop shooter, which required the participant to throw a ball and have it go through a hoop mounted up high to win.

Qubine looked at the set up and did some quick mental arithmetic. "I have to say I'm not confident in winning."

"The hoop's too high for you, mon petit ami?"

"For the last time, we are as short as each other. At least I don't compensate by wearing boots raised three inches off the ground."

Behind them, Charlotte sniggered quietly. David didn't even bother to tell them to stop bickering.

"First one to score is the winner."

With Charlotte helping Jean Paulet, Zephyr helping David and the stall keeper giving Qubine a hand with the balls, a shooting frenzy began.

"This is harder than it looks."

"The hoops are elliptical, not circular. You have to throw a bit further than you think."

"Less analysing and more shooting! The two of you are making it too easy for moi!"

It wasn't until Vashyron's group returned from the rollercoaster that Jean Paulet scored the first goal. Bouncing on his feet, he threw his arms around Charlotte, who rolled her eyes, before turning to his friends. "And this is how it is done, mesdames et messieurs."

David called for a rematch, and finally scored at around the same time as Qubine. Watching his shorter and much less athletic friends pant for air, David declared himself the final winner because he hadn't broken a sweat. Qubine started saying something about having no need to be physically fit when his brother Pater returned with Leanne.

"Guys, you should go on the ferris wheel! It's amazing up there!" Pater said with his usual enthusiasm, and Leanne nodded to confirm that it was true. "What are you guys— ooh this looks fun, can I try?"

The stall keeper quickly put together a basket of balls and took it over to the cardinal who made all this happen to start with.

Pater scored on first attempt.

"I hate him," said Jean Paulet, David and Qubine at the same time.

The stall keeper explained to Pater that for each goal they could exchange their prize for a larger one, so with this fourth goal they could claim an extra large prize. Pater looked up, dazzled by the selection of plush toys hanging at the top of the stall, each as big as his family dog.

Finally making his way out of the carnage of balls, Zephyr hopped over the counter, went to Pater and cupped his hands around his friend's ear, whispering something to him. Receiving the information, Pater gasped, and looked over the Leanne, whose eyes were fixed on a piggy plush toy. He asked the stall keeper to take that down for him right away.

"Hap-happy birthday!"

Watching Leanne receive her oversized birthday present, Vashyron wandered over to his housemates.

"It's like being the third wheel at someone date."

David did a quick head count. "Eighth wheel. I'm more concerned that I have a stake in Pater's gift for her. But at least he's giving her something. Good job telling him, Zephyr."

Zephyr just shrugged.

Listening to the conversation, Qubine studied the group. "Pater likes Leanne, who is a housemate of Zephyr and Vashyron's, who are friends of David's, who is the brother of Paris, who is dating Charlotte, who worked with Emmy, who is engaged to Jean Paulet, who is, unfortunately, a friend of myself, Pater's brother."

"And your point is?" David asked him.

"The relationships here are too incestuous."

"This is pretty much your entire social circle. In fact, I don't think my housemates are even a part of that."

Qubine just shrugged; he didn't care at all. It was hard to mock someone for having no friends when they really didn't care.

"It's a shame we couldn't manufacture a reason for Rush to come with us."

"Why?"

"Just thinking from your standpoint. I couldn't come up with an excuse to suggest it to Pater."

A member of Paris's household staff, Rush was far better friends with Paris and David than he was with Pater. It would have been strange for Pater to send him an invite. "That's all right. I see him all the time these days."

"Interesting."

"Why are you always so interested in me and Rush?"

"Because I want you to be happy."

David rolled his eyes. Yes, of course. "Because you are nosy and want to see if it will work out."

"Same thing."

 

The present was heavier than it looked, and felt both solid and soft at the same time. Not that David thought Paris would ever give him something questionable, but he felt the need to check first.

"Can I open it now?"

"Of course."

Under the gift wrap was a black vest, thin, flexible yet sturdy. Body armour, an item that was, alongside weapons and ammunition, a hunter's best friend.

"This is exactly what I needed. Thank you." It was the model David was considering getting as well. He got the feeling he wouldn't be as easily killed by bullets as the average person, but getting hit would still hurt and he'd like to avoid that.

"Some people might not believe it, but I don't actually want you to die."

With a smile, David handed over his Christmas gift to his brother. He did make an effort to wrap it up, but the distinctive shape of a bottle could hardly be hidden. Paris looked at David, an eyebrow raised. David nodded at the item, encouraging him to open it.

A second eyebrow joined the first when a bottle of wine from Royotia was revealed. "Brother!" he said, as if scandalised.

"It's not like it's contraband. Yet." David slapped Paris on the back once, laughing. "Try to drink it quickly."

There were discussions in progress on making this famous alcohol from Royotia, a town in Level 10, illegal to produce, own or consume. Some say it was because of its potency, but the conspiracy theory was that this wine was so good the Cardinals wanted it only for themselves. Either way, it was highly prized because of how difficult it was to obtain anything from Level 10 without having it stolen or getting killed.

Paris wasn't a heavy drinker, but he appreciated good wines, something he learned from his mother. It didn't escape him that this was something he could share with family.

"What is Royotia like, by the way? That town might end up under my jurisdiction in the next diocese shuffle."

"It's a right hole. Good luck."

Rather than being disappointed, Paris looked like he was up for a challenge.

"Ah, Mother said thank you for the card," he said, then added, when David tilted his head, "she did. Really."

"She's very gracious." It didn't mean she would welcome him to live under her roof again, but David was thankful nonetheless.

"So are you."

"Wouldn't it be easier if we all hated each other?"

"If even my mother can't hate you, I don't think anyone can," Paris shook his head, resigned. "Bloody politics."

"Shush, politician." David clapped his brother on the back again.

The day ended on a quiet note, after David invited his friends to the housewarming next week, when he and Zephyr could finally move into the house next door. Nobody could commit right away, but he was hopeful he could at least get Qubine could drop by.

Back home, his new body armour draped over the side of his makeshift bed, David lay back and watched the lights on the Christmas tree flash patterns on the ceiling.

He liked where he was right now, but to say he wasn't homesick would be lying. Too many ties he couldn't just let go of.

But ties with the past was what made people who they were. For Vashyron, it was his old work partner and the family he left behind. For Leanne, it was an old habit of having things in the right order, the need to avoid chaos. For Zephyr, a past life that he could hardly recall was still affecting his preferences and habits.

Oh well. The past was the past and its ties were a tangled web; some links he believed he had already cut himself free of, others he would never be willing to severe. And since that was the case, what was the point in agonising over it?

He left the tree lights on and went to sleep.


	4. Housewarming

[AR1139, new year]

"Just anywhere here?"

"Wait! Do you want to bring the building down?" Vashyron ducked as concrete chips flew, the pickaxe in Leanne's hands now half buried in the wrong wall. "You want the bit I've marked!"

"Oh, I thought that was for something else." Leanne poked her tongue out. "Oops."

The deed was signed, money had changed hands, and they were officially moving into the other half of the building. Initially they were going to knock down the whole central wall, but changed their minds after learning it was a load-bearing wall. There was originally a double doorway, however, which was bricked up when the previous owner splitted the building into two. Leanne insisted on doing the knocking down and Vashyron was fine with that, until now.

He really should've learned from how bad Leanne's aim used to be when she started working as a hunter that he must not trust her with new tools.

"Argh! It's stuck!"

Vashyron rolled his eyes and gestured for Leanne to move aside. He gripped the handle and yanked. It wasn't budging. "What'd you done?"

Passing by, a bag of his things over a shoulder, Zephyr looked on. "That's... decorative. Nice one."

"You shuddup right now."

A new voice joined the circus. "If I may?" David put down the bucket he was carrying, stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. Vashyron moved away, frowning doubtfully.

"You aren't made of pipe-cleaners like Zephyr but I don't think— fuck!" he jumped backwards when the offending tool was plucked out of the wall, swinging in an arc that nearly crushed his chest. He gaped in bewilderment as David handed him the pickaxe.

"You've already loosened it," David said, pushing his sleeves down again.

The three housemates watched David pick up his bucket and leave through the front door, presumably to go next door to do some cleaning.

"Remind me to never arm wrestle with that guy."

 

By evening, there was an open gap between the two sides of the house, where new doors would be installed. For now, though, they had done enough and were each sorting out their own space and things. The house felt oddly empty and quiet as Vashyron went to the other side and knocked on David's open door.

"Hey, mind if I come in?"

After David shook his head, Vashyron stepped inside and closed the door behind him. David's room was quite bare — just like Zephyr's, Vashyron thought.

"Already lonely and sad without us for a few hours?"

Vashyron snorted. "Glad to be rid of you guys, actually."

David sat down on his bed so that Vashyron could take the chair. "It's too late to say this now but I hope you don't mind that I'm over here with Zephyr."

"That's what I want to talk to you about," said Vashyron. "It's taken six months and might've felt like a long time to you, but I've never seen Zephyr warm up to anyone that quickly. Whatever it is you're doing, it's better than any effort we've made. So, thanks."

David shrugged. "I honestly don't think I've done anything in particular, but I did know him since he was a kid. And it takes one to know one, I guess."

"That's the thing: you two aren't alike at all. You've got freaky arm muscles and a better attitude."

"That's because we had different things done to us." The comment made David smile. "And he was only fourteen back then, wasn't he." He looked up; Zephyr's room was above his. "I was far luckier in comparison. But I can still relate, and know what someone in this situation would want to hear, and when he would want to be left alone."

Lucky, huh. There was a bit of _deus ex machina_ , Vashyron supposed. David did get plucked out and taken to Chandelier, whereas Zephyr remained in Hell. But David didn't say if Chandelier was just a more decorated Hell or not. Or maybe Hell was a place in your mind, and it didn't matter where you were.

"You haven't talked to him?" Vashyron asked, and David shook his head. "Still think it's better forgotten?"

"I don't know. I haven't told him because I can't tell what might happen, especially since I don't know what he does remember and just isn't talking about."

"He can't talk, so you can't talk, and so he can't talk."

"Exactly."

Vashyron breathed out deeply, and stood. "I don't know why I keep ending up with people like you."

"Your fathering nature, perhaps?"

Vashyron would have laughed if it didn't actually feel like that sometimes. "In six years I've only seen that kid smile a few times. If you do see it, you can adopt him instead."

"Don't worry Vashyron, I'll never steal him from you."

"Steal? I'll pay you to take him off my hands." Vashyron smirked, and let himself out.

 

"It's like Christmas all over again."

They displayed and plugged in their gifts one by one. By the time they were done, the lights made the room look quite festive. Their guests were glad they were given instructions on what kind of gift to bring, too — the light-up kind — so it worked out well for everyone.

"I like lights," David replied to Rush's comment, and pointed at the open doors that led to the other, older half of the house. "And technically it's still Christmas, since our tree is still up."

Rush leaned to one side and craned his neck so that he could see said tree. "Aren't you supposed to take it down in the first week of the year?"

"It's potted. They say that with this breed of tree, it will stay alive as long as it gets water and light, in theory. It'd be a shame to throw it away, so it'll just have to always be Christmas."

"Oh no, how will you cope." Rush cackled.

Their attention was diverted for a moment when Leanne appeared, followed by Pater, carrying plates of food. Vashyron said something about how making a cardinal and a guest do work was rude and Leanne said she couldn't stop him.

"Small world, hm?" David asked.

"So small it's freaky." Rush had never expected to come to David's housewarming and see Pater, here as Zephyr's guest not David's, as well as his father's friend Juris, who apparently was a friend of Leanne's. He was already surprised when a few months ago he found out David was going to live with Vashyron, who he knew through hunter work way back when. "What's the relationship between Uncle Juris and Leanne?"

"I don't know." David eyed Rush, following his line of thought. "It seems quite innocent to me."

"It better be, cos he's always saying something about how my li'l sis is like his daughter, which is kind of weird and creepy since he doesn't have a daughter," said Rush. "I mean, he's really nice, it's just when he mentions his daughter... if he means Leanne, then it all make sense."

David tilted his head. "I see. Well, this is the first time I've met him, so you know more than I do." He looked at Rush again when his friend muttered something under his breath. "What is it?"

Rush coughed. "Nothing. I'm gonna get some of those sandwiches before Pater eats them all."

After Rush escaped, David sat down on the arm of one of the well-beaten sofas and looked on. Juris and Leanne were talking over glasses of something bubbly. In this world, family was often found in strange places. Sometimes family was simply the people whom you were most comfortable with, those who knew all your dirty secrets but didn't judge, those who patched you up when you fell and then sent you on your way again. Which probably meant he and Rush could be family of some sort too, except they didn't love each other like that, and over the years Rush had helped him so much but David had never had the chance to do the same for him.

Rush nearly dropped his food when he found himself suddenly hugged by David.

"What?" Half a sandwich in his mouth and the other half in one hand, Rush patted David's back with his remaining free hand. "You got a tummy ache?"

Trust Rush to come up with that. "Just getting sentimental." David let him go, smiling. People said that you could judge if someone was a decent person by the quality of his friends. If that was true, then he wasn't doing too badly.

Vashyron wandered over with a bottle of beer. "You sure you don't want some?"

"I don't drink."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Unfortunately. But it means there's more for you." David looked around. "You didn't invite anyone?"

"Well I know a bunch of ladies who I'd have invited, but if they saw you and Zephyr they wouldn't want me anymore. Fickle, but true."

"He has no friends," Leanne, overhearing the conversation, helpfully contributed.

"Hey, I do have friends! I'm not like Zephyr!"

Zephyr turned towards the group, an eyebrow arched, At the same time, Pater protested, bouncing up and down on his heels. "Zephyr is my friend!"

It was amazing how nobody needed to really do anything for havoc to break out in this house.

At the end of the night after all the guests had left, David sat down at the sofa, bathed by the glow of the newly-acquired lights, some in the form of lamps, others repurposed road signs that nobody was going to miss.

He picked up the telephone and dialled. The one he wanted to talk to should be at the workshop right now.

As usual, the call was picked up after about six rings. "Hello?"

"It's David."

"Oh. The party is over?"

"I walked Pater to the lift, he should be home soon."

"I thought the guards went to pick him up. But thank you."

"They did, but you don't know what Rainy Bridge is like at night," said David. "Thanks for the present, by the way. It was the talk of the party." His gaze fell on the miniature light-up replica of the statue of _David_ — an artifact that was apparently 4000 years old and now resided in a museum in Chandelier — which Qubine sent as a housewarming gift.

"Well, I couldn't make it but I do still try my best."

"You could make it. You just chose not to."

"I might not have a job in the conventional sense, but I don't just sit on my backside all day. There was work I had to do."

"Is that so?" David asked. Qubine, born in a cardinal household, didn't have too many financial worries. He picked things to do as an interest, and often moved his work around as it suited.

A pause. "You are angry?"

That was the wrong thing to say, but David couldn't backtrack. "No. Sorry, I was just—" homesick would also be the wrong thing to say. Too close to the truth. "—worried."

At least that was still true. His ties with the past were a tangled mess and he wanted them to remain that way. But Jean Paulet was getting married soon, and if Qubine chose to stay away now, he would lose both of his closest friends, just like that.

"About..."

"Nothing. Forget what I said."

"David."

"Is there any news on JP's wedding?"

Qubine waited a while, until he was sure David wanted to change the subject. "Last time he mentioned it, he has secured a venue. We should look at getting our outfits soon."

"Let me guess: he wants tailcoats and cravats?"

"Of course. I will ask the tailor to visit you."

"Isn't that a bit over the top? I was going to just buy something."

"Over the top? For Jean Paulet?" Qubine snorted. "Anyway, even I know that groomsmen should wear the same style, cut with the same fabric. A tailor would actually make this easier for us."

"Your logic wins, as always." David said, stretching. "Ah, about that statue, wasn't it made by an old master?"

"So it is said."

"Master or not, his anatomy wasn't very good. That is one unimpressive unit."

After a second of silence, the sound of Qubine bursting out laughing was precious. "The _David_ is not comparable to _Dah-veed_ , then?"

"What can I say, I am... much better developed."

"You should tell Rush that."

"Fine. Make fun of me." Yes, of course. Tell Rush that. "Right, I am going to sleep."

"Goodnight, then. Whatever it is that you are worried about, don't."

"I will try." David laughed, his voice dry. "Goodnight."

He put the receiver down.

_Whatever it is that you are worried about, don't._

If only it was that easy.


	5. Roeas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pushing this out quite quickly because it's only from about chapter 5 or 6 that things start to happen.
> 
> In case chapter title doesn't give it away, this is where Roeas and Nora come in. They're in their mid-twenties, working in a hunter group called the Bloody Alice. They are tough women who are very good at their job and take no shit from people. Nora and Vashyron know each other. Roeas, as you may know, was a villain in TLR. She seemed to have no particular ambition and was a villain because The Conqueror was one and she loved him. This is how I imagine her to be after I took The Conqueror away from her.

[AR1139, spring/summer]

"Stop breathing down my neck, it's disgusting."

"Sorry," muttered Zephyr, taking a step back. He'd just have to wait for his turn to read the board.

The woman turned around. She was slim, but clearly strong. A new face to Zephyr. After a few years in the profession — a term he used very loosely — he normally could recognise everyone who used the guild at Cheyenne Street.

The new face arched her thin, delicate eyebrow, the same pale blonde as her long hair, when her gaze fell on Zephyr's face. Then she quite literally gave him a once-over, and purred.

"Actually, you can breathe on me all you like."

What?

Zephyr could feel the tips of his ears starting to heat up. Held by her bold stare, he was at a complete loss as to how to react, but soon a familiar voice came to his rescue.

"Sorry, the scrapper took a while." David crossed the short distance between the door and the mission board, and noticed Zephyr's attention was not on the jobs available.

The woman's gaze moved onto David. Her eyebrow stayed lifted, and a soft smile played on her lips. "You his brother? Fancy some action? I can handle both of you."

Zephyr could feel them both staring at him now. Oh boy. Behind him, David must be shaking his head, because she frowned and then chuckled. "Oh, I can tell. Doesn't mean you can't join in," she said, nodding at Zephyr. "There's enough to share."

David all but burst out laughing. "I'm going to have to turn you down, but thank you for the invite." He put a hand on Zephyr's shoulder. "Work before play. Have you got us a job?"

"I— I... er..."

The woman shifted her weight to one leg, her cool smile taking on a warmer hue. "You're cute."

A fourth voice joined in, this time from the other woman who was reading the mission board. "Leave him alone Roeas; he's too young for you."

"Oh back off, he's old enough."

The other woman turned, rolling her eyes. She was someone Zephyr knew, Nora. An old friend of Vashyron's, although she would probably get angry if she heard that and declare they were not friends at all.

Nora ignored what Roeas said and pointed at one of the pieces of paper pinned onto the board they were all here for. "Can we talk about making some cash for a minute? Look at this. I reckon we need six people for this job, but if we can take it on then that's two thousand rubies per person."

Breathing a sigh of relief at the change of topic, Zephyr pushed past the others to take a look. What Nora said sounded about right. Six was playing it very safe, but he wasn't going to argue. "How many people've you got?"

"Three, since a couple of us are sick. This is Roeas by the way, she joined Bloody Alice a few weeks ago. Old friend of mine." She tipped her head towards Roeas. "Zephyr and David. Vashyron's boys. They're good at what they do."

"Three of you, two of us, I think that's enough people." David studied the board. "Vashyron's sick as well. Leanne's sprained her arm, but there might still be something for her... this is perfect." He reached up and pulled off one of the requests. A fetch quest. Boring, but it was issued from Pater's manor.

" _Cash_ yron's too sick to work? What with, undersex?"

"Man flu."

They chat and joked for a while, mostly about Vashyron, and then decided they should go and get ready, then meet back at the guild in an hour to set off together.

Zephyr was happy with that. It'd give him some time to consider.

Roeas… hmm.

 

"Nora, about Roeas..."

Nora sniggered quietly, and lowered her voice like David did, watching their friends walk ahead of them. "She acts like a maneater but she's alright really. Has this creepy way of judging someone's character just by looking at them, but she never gets it wrong. Sucker for blonds, I guess you've already worked that out. Why?"

"They're talking. That's more than Zephyr's willing to do with most new people. I think he's actually interested. Probably just got taken off guard earlier."

"Is he still green?"

David did a shrug that said "I don't know."

"Ah well. She'll take good care of 'im. She's good."

David shot her a sidelong glance, reading her expression, then pulled a face. "That's more than I ever need to know."

Nora's face flushed red. "It was just once!"

"You don't need to justify anything. I just don't want to know."

"What? Is it that disgusting? I don't have a problem with you—"

"It's not disgusting. But I just don't need the mental images."

Ahead of them, Zephyr suddenly stopped. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing!"

 

Man or woman, it didn't matter which you were when you had a gun, so long as you pulled your weight. Jumping into a job with strangers would be a stupid thing to do, but Vashyron and Nora's groups knew each other enough to cooperate and the job was finished without a hitch. In fact David suspected that he could have done this by himself if he went all out — as could Zephyr — but like someone who could not feel pain had to learn how to not hurt himself, over the years David had learned to keep a safety margin, because he lacked the ability to care about danger.

Besides, working with people was better fun than working by himself. It was more entertaining and it kept him grounded.

It wasn't the same for Zephyr, though. David could tell even without hearing some of the things Zephyr liked to say: _I like it when it gets messy; you're gonna swim in your own blood._ And sometimes David could feel his own bloodlust stir just from listening to Zephyr. It was probably bad for him, but if he viewed it as a test then every time he kicked that feeling back it was another battle won.

The things that he had seen, had done — Zephyr was proof that even if the battle could not be won, it could still be fought, no matter how difficult. Zephyr had lost his mind before, but he survived it and carried on. David respected him for that.

"Boring. Where are the real enemies?"

"I think we're done, Zephyr."

"Damn!" Zephyr stalked off to the next room, hoping to find another bunch of monsters. David just sighed and let him be. Nora wandered over to him.

"He's better than I remembered. How old is he?"

"21."

"Shit, I thought he's sixteen. He looks like a kid! How old are you?"

"25," said David, watching Nora's jaw drop.

"Damn, you look a few years younger as well. Whatever you two are putting on your faces, I want some of it. Seriously, what the hell?"

David just shrugged. He really would not recommend to anyone what he and Zephyr went through that caused their slow ageing process. The work on Zephyr was more extreme, done earlier in his life and the results more pronounced, and it was going to give him problems in ten years' time. The idea was novel at first, but after a while the idea of being able to grow old at the same rate as everyone else became more appealing, and David counted himself lucky that he would probably get away with it better than Zephyr would.

Zephyr was back, not having found any new targets. He was talking with Roeas now. Gun talk, David didn't have to hear it to be able to tell. Zephyr was a lot more confident when he wasn't taken by surprise, and when he was in his own element.

"They get on well."

"I told you they might."

"He is cute. If she changes her mind I think I might ask him out."

"Really Nora? This morning—"

"This morning I thought he wasn't even legal. But he's got style, I like that. And Roeas's a good judge of character, I told you already."

"Wow. He's a magnet. Vashyron's going to be jealous."

"Jealous? He's gonna flip his shit." Nora laughed. "And come on, why are you sounding so surprised? I bet you thought about it too."

"He's like family to me, so he's inherently unattractive."

Nora, not believing a word she heard, took a good long look at David, searching his face. Then she stepped back and smirked, turning away to light a cigarette.

"What?"

She didn't explain, but instead waved her friend over. "Roeas!" A thumb jutted at David. "Look at him."

Roeas plucked the cigarette from Nora and flicked it away, ignoring the protests. David tried to back away from the women, but she just moved closer, and suddenly he knew how exposed Zephyr felt earlier.

"Move on," Roeas concluded after taking a long look, "life's too short to waste on unrequited love."

Shocked, surprised and defeated, David put his hands in his pockets and sagged his shoulders.

"Remind me to never hang out with you Ladies again."

"Aw, you love us really."

 

"Are you sure you two aren't related?"

Despite the skin colour differences, David could see why people asked that. Even the barman could recognise him these days because he was one of the two blonds who never ordered alcohol. And who went to clubs without drinking?

David cupped his hands around Nora's ear. "I don't know what his reason is, but I'm allergic."

She looked at him, confused.

"It means drinking can actually kill me."

It was a lie but over the years David had learned that this particular way of explaining things meant that people wouldn't try to spike his drinks for fun, so he stuck to it.

"That sucks."

"Yes it does."

"You gonna dance?"

"Maybe later."

David watched Nora join the floor. He hadn't realised they all liked the same club, because they never bumped into each other before. A bit of socialising after work wasn't a bad idea, but he might leave soon, otherwise it would look like he was keeping an eye on Zephyr. And even if they were brothers, Zephyr just didn't need any babysitting.

Watching Zephyr now, David could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. Chances were that he was the same as David in the way he just never brought anyone home. They did have a huge amount of weaponry lying around, after all. You just didn't bring anyone to a home like that unless you knew they could be trusted.

Zephyr liked strong women, but didn't like being jumped on or seen as prey. As for Roeas, David wasn't entirely sure but she seemed to be reacting well to how Zephyr was turning the tables. Or probably she already saw this in him at the start.

David turned away from the dance floor. This was like watching a little brother hook up; he didn't disapprove but he didn't need to see it.

"Wanna dance, handsome?" Someone stepped up beside him, and David could tell who it was without looking. He opened his arms as Rush moved in for a hug.

"Having fun?"

"Not really. Going home soon."

"All by yourself?"

"You could take me home and have your wicked ways with me if you want." He noticed Rush's eyes on his drink. "It's water."

"I just wanted to check. Cos you look kinda upset."

"Got told to stop wasting my time on people who don't feel the same."

"Punched right in the gut, eh?" Rush was sympathetic. "Some proper clubbing times might help you take your mind off it?"

"Not tonight. Running before seeing my other little brother pull."

Rush laughed. "Right. I'm done here anyway, we can hang somewhere else if you want."

"You came on your own?"

"With a mate. He found entertainment and ditched me."

"I see. Let's go."

"No wicked ways."

"Damn."

 

"Do you know Roeas?"

"Nora's friend Roeas?" Rush accepted the mug of hot chocolate with half a can of cream on top. "Scary but nice?"

"That's the one. Nora keeps saying she's a good judge of character."

"Yeah, she seems to have a knack for reading people."

It was difficult to believe someone could just walk up to another person and do that, but she did manage to see straight through David's love life, or lack thereof. He mused over the idea that both he and Zephyr had passed her test. "What does it mean if she approves of someone though? Is he a good person? Or just good at his job?"

Rush ignored the burn and drank his chocolate right away. "Good in the sack maybe."

Laughing, David put the rest of the cream on his own chocolate. Shallow, yes, but he didn't mind at all if that was the case. "Sounds likely."

They were sitting around chatting about old friends when the front door opened and Zephyr came home, alone. David checked the time, surprised.

"You're home earlier than I expected."

Zephyr pulled off his jacket. "I don't know what you were thinking." He headed upstairs for his room, then suddenly added, "I'm seeing her tomorrow."

With that, the stairway door slammed shut.

"You know what that is?" Rush laughed, slamming his hand on the sofa. "He's a pro. You better find somewhere else to sleep tomorrow night, it's gonna be wild."

"Kids these days. I can't understand them," said David, amused. "They make me look like a slut."

"That's one way to do it, get it while it's hot. But try letting it brew for a bit too, you might be surprised how much fun it is."

"You talk like you actually know," David mumbled. "Is seven years too long a time for something to brew?"

"Just a tad."

"I think I might wait longer then."

"You're hopeless, Dave."

"I did ask you but you turned me down. You're the one forcing me to have one night stands. All my whoring and debauchery is your fault."

"Yeah, totally my fault, nothing to do with Mr. Asexual." Rush raised his mug. "Do you have any more cream?"

David's response was to fetch a new can from the fridge and squirt it all over Rush's face.

"Man!"

"As if you're in any position to talk."

Rush, who had been single for a long time, wiped the cream off his face and ate it.

"Say whatever you want, you still ain't turning me."

It wasn't Rush's intention and the joke was years old, but it still made David feel very unattractive. It was just one of those days, perhaps. He had accepted long ago that he was going to stay single forever because the one person he wanted wouldn't want him, dwelling on it now would just be silly.

"One day. One day I will turn you."

"Ha. Good luck."


	6. Best Date

[AR1139, early summer]

It wasn't too far away from Ebel city, near where Rush lived actually. David had done this walk quite a number of times now. And the walk itself had nothing new about it — the traffic lights at Rainy Bridge were still temperamental, Cafe Chelsy was still abandoned, the route next to the core lift was still shaded by the structure and lit only by flickering lights. Nothing ever changed here. Nothing ever changed in Basel. David supposed that was partly why so many people went mad in this mechanical world; boredom could destroy one's mind as easily as any drug.

There were other kinds of madness, of course, and those were what introduced variations to this place where time seemed frozen, despite it being controlled by what was essentially a clock.

"A ruby for your thoughts?"

David's attention returned to reality. He turned to his companion and raised an eyebrow at the choice of words.

Qubine smirked. "We are on a date, in case you've forgotten."

David snorted, shaking his head. "I was just thinking about how time seems to be frozen in Basel. There is hardly any history."

"And hardly any future to look forward to." Qubine said, and when David gave him a look, he shrugged. "You know that's the truth. And I can say it out loud because I'm not a cardinal."

Yes, well. If he put it that way. "But you do hope for a better future."

"My 'hope' is proficiently managed by my understanding of reality. For the first time in many years there is actually some level of competency amongst the ranks that wield influence, but I know I won't see the changes in my lifetime."

They turned the corner, and the narrow street opened up, leading them towards a tree-lined square. Nearby was the restaurant they were looking for.

Being several inches shorter, Qubine had to look up at David when they stood shoulder to shoulder. "There it is. We should refrain from discussing politics now. Politics and religion are never great topics for a first date."

Amused, David smiled. "You know about that? I'm surprised."

He followed Qubine and entered the restaurant. A waiter found their reservation and led them to their table. Once they were left alone, David leaned forward in his seat a little.

"You seem familiar with this place."

"I told you before that I'm no stranger to Level 4, didn't I?" said Qubine. "This restaurant belongs to a relative. I come here once in a while."

"With your dates," said David.

"I try to go somewhere different every time; the waiters would talk otherwise," Qubine said matter-of-factly, then finally gave David the explanation he had been waiting for. "My father wants me to have a more sociable lifestyle, and gaining a daughter-in-law would be a bonus. So he arranges these and I humour him. I hadn't thoroughly checked the details for tonight before setting out; these evenings tend to blur together in my head now."

David cast his mind back to earlier this week. Both sides had made the same mistake: when Leanne received a request for a date sent from Pater's manor, Vashyron, whether through purely good intention or hoping for peanut gallery entertainment, encouraged her to accept. They had not realised that the date in question was not with Pater, but his older brother Qubine. This evening, when Qubine was nearing the address to pick up his date, he gradually realised the error too, but apparently he didn't want the evening or the dinner reservation to go to waste.

"If Leanne did come and Pater found out, he would be quite upset," said Qubine, picking up the wine list.

"Not trying to put you down, but Leanne wouldn't have come even if I hadn't stepped in. She was looking forward to a night out with Pater."

"She likes my brother? Should I encourage him to ask her out?"

"She's fond of him at least." David thought about the next thing he was going to say, and then decided he could say it because it was only Qubine. "But she accepted partly to get at Zephyr, too."

"Indecisive, or just greedy?"

"The former, I think." Zephyr was sort of seeing Roeas now, but Leanne didn't know yet. David wondered how that piece of news would go down.

A waiter came to their table. Qubine ordered water for them both. Vashyron was distraught when he found out about David's alcohol abstinence — just like Zephyr — but older friends had got used to the idea by now. As for Qubine, he just didn't drink often.

This wasn't the first time they were out together and in every way, nothing should feel different. Nevertheless, nothing felt real. Even before leaving Chandelier, David hadn't counted on his friendships forged there to last. For something like this, to genuinely be liked enough that Jean Paulet was moving heaven and earth to have his wedding arranged where David could attend, or even a simple dinner with Qubine, it was unexpected and reaffirming; perhaps he was a likeable person as long as people didn't know what he really was.

A quiet clatter on the table. Qubine pushed a ruby across, blood red stone against bleached white tablecloth.

"This is a surprise — you're quite a charmer. Why didn't I know about this before?" asked David, amused by the sight.

Qubine smirked. "Are you going to share your thoughts? If not, I want my money back."

He must have looked like he was deeply in thought and shutting out the world like Rush said he sometimes did. David pocketed the money. "You can't be happy going on these dates, I was just thinking."

"Are you implying that I don't like dates, or that I'm anti-social overall?"

"I'm implying there are other things you would prefer to spend time on."

"If you'd rather go home now, David, you could just say so."

"Oh, but I love seeing you."

"And maybe I do too." Qubine's half-hearted response earned him a whole-hearted laugh. "It's like exercise. I don't love it, I don't hate it. I do it because it's necessary. I would rather be in my workshop than socialise, but in the long run that isn't good for my mental health. And I estimate if I went on three more of these, my father would get off my case and leave the subject alone for another two years."

A logical reason behind every action. Just the usual from Qubine. And it was good to hear he was making an attempt to look after his health, especially because… well, every one of his friends loved him dearly, but they would all agree that he was, at times, quite mad. And that was not them just affectionately making fun.

If anyone shut himself away for weeks on end to work on whatever it was that Qubine did, then they might turn out the same too. But Qubine loved what he did and was dedicated to it, and no one could tear him away from that even if they tried.

"You don't love anything that you can't read, or take apart and then put back together again, anyway."

"True, I suppose."

Their drinks were served. Qubine sipped his water and never touched the menu. It seemed like he already knew what he wanted to eat. David leafed through the menu slowly.

"The fact that you had a date set up with Leanne means you haven't yet found anyone worth a second date, right?"

"Why? Are you trying to see if you have a chance?"

Coming from anyone else, David would have seen that as flirting. But from Qubine, it was him poking fun.

"I'm not that desperate yet," David parried, "just trying to imagine you breaking hearts."

"Emphasis on the 'trying', I take it."

"I didn't mean that as a dig—"

"It's fine. Relationships are cumbersome, I don't want one so it doesn't matter how other people think about me."

That was more than David had ever heard Qubine speak on this topic. He was the sort of person who was quite verbal on certain subjects, but almost never revealed anything personal. Did something happen in the past that resulted in such a view?

"When I said before that you would marry books and machines if you could, I was only joking."

"Antourion is gifting me his entire library in his will. Once he dies you'll never see me again."

"Well, it's always good to know where one stands in another's life." Although it was only banter, David felt stung, somehow. "But how about your mental health?"

"Who needs sanity when he has a library?"

Qubine waved a waiter over, who took their orders and left them alone once more. David looked around — the place was quiet, and they were seated away from other diners. Probably Qubine's personal preference, if he was a regular customer.

"Why?" David decided to try and ask.

"Why what?"

"Your view on relationships is quite extreme."

Qubine was clearly surprised that David actually inquired. He fidgeted with his cutlery, breaking eye contact with David. "They breed dependence and laziness. I'm allergic to both."

There were so many counter-arguments David could come up with and Qubine must know that. But David wasn't here to change his view; it wasn't something anyone could influence, Qubine would start to think differently when he met the right person. Besides, David had always tried to not intrude upon other people's lives too much, aware that any friendship he had could be short-lived. Rush, despite knowing the reason behind David's thinking, still called him a pessimist, but this attitude had served David well. People liked him because he never took them for granted, and he never ventured too close into their personal space.

"How about you? Have you got anywhere with Rush yet?"

"That's not something you should ask your date," said David, well-prepared for this question, "but the answer is 'no'. I've moved on."

"'Moved on'?"

"Just moved on. Not onto anyone else."

"After all this time? So you never actually told him?"

"He only likes women; there was no point in saying anything." This neatly wrapped up that old but convenient lie. David would need to update Rush on this later. "In fact, I regret ever having told you," he added with a slight roll of his eyes.

"Even though I am your best friend?"

"You sound so much like JP," said David with a chuckle, knowing what kind of reaction he was going to receive.

And he was right — Qubine looked terribly aghast and insulted. "Take that back, or we are not friends anymore!"

"We weren't from the moment you said you won't see me ever again as soon as you have that library."

"Touché," Qubine conceded, but without giving up the chance of mocking Jean Paulet's method of speech. "So what have I been demoted to?"

"Date."

"At least that's a first. I assume Jean Paulet has never been on a date with you." Qubine looked resigned. He thought about what he said, then quickly added, "but if he has, I don't want to know."

David silently laughed into his glass of water.

After dinner, Qubine said he had no entertainment planned for the rest of the night — he wasn't good at dates — and David took this as the cue that he would rather go home, so they headed for the lift.

There were some two dozens people at the plaza in front of the core lift, some seemed rather irritated, others becoming verbally abusive. Seeing this, David could guess what the problem was, and a quick enquiry confirmed his suspicion.

"They think it'll take at least another three hours to change the necessary parts." David glanced at the clock in the centre of the plaza - this means it wouldn't be until early hours in the morning, or even later, before anyone could travel.

Qubine followed David's gaze and train of thought. "I'll wait; there is no choice."

There really wasn't. The steps that wound around the core structure in theory did connect the two levels, but walking up would take... David couldn't even begin to guess, looking up. It was a very long way. In theory they could ask Pater to send a helicopter, but Qubine would never agree to that level of ridiculous extravagance.

"You could come and stay at mine for the night."

"On a first date? What sort of person do you think I am?"

Whoever said Qubine was dull had never really talked to him before. David had to stop himself from laughing amongst this group of very annoyed people.

"David, you don't even have a spare sofa."

"I've moved next door, remember? We all have our own rooms now, as well as spare sofas. You would have known if you came to the housewarming."

Qubine gave it a brief thought. "I'll wait here. But thank you for the offer."

"Hmm. Should I be offended?"

"I just can't sleep in any bed that isn't mine."

It wasn't as if Qubine was known for having a good sleep pattern anyway, David thought. "So you would rather wait here for hours?" That didn't seem a logical solution for someone like Qubine. "We can come back when it's fixed."

"Well..."

"I will even make you tea."

Qubine sighed. "Fine. You win."

 

As he made tea, David listened to Qubine talk to his brother Pater on the phone. He was wrong earlier about Qubine. He loved things that he could take apart and then put back together, books, and family. David was none of those things, but he took comfort in the fact that most people were not, either.

The conversation was short. David handed over the tea, with a dash of milk and two sugars, to his friend when the receiver was put down. It seemed like Pater didn't have much to say.

"Your brother trusts you to be in Leanne's house late at night," David remarked.

"Why shouldn't he?"

That was true, because in all these years Qubine had never been seen flirting and had never shown interest in anyone. Still, this was perhaps not the time to point out to him that he was the more intelligent and far better looking one of the two brothers. He doted on Pater so much that he probably would not accept anything that could be construed as a negative comment regarding his brother.

The main advantage Pater had over his brother was the fact that he was a cardinal, which, although he had already done much good work since being chosen, was a strange idea David still had to wrap his head around. In his own case, he was older than Paris and academically about equal, but he had explicitly asked Cardinal Rowen to not consider him for cardinalship, for personal as well as political reasons. Even then, Rowen was reluctant to promise anything, saying that life background was far less important than the ability to lead and he saw potential in both David and Paris. It took a lot of persuasion, highlighting the divisions and hostility this could cause before Rowen finally removed David's name from the list.

Whichever way David looked at it, Qubine was a far more suitable leader than Pater. So why was he not chosen to be the cardinal? During his conversation, Rowen mentioned something about older brothers not taking up the mantle, but he refused to say more when David inquired.

"David, you don't need to wait with me. I'll let myself out later."

"After midnight it's not a good idea to cross the bridge on your own. I'll go with you."

"If you insist." Qubine pulled out a small notepad and a pen from a trouser pocket. David almost laughed at the sight — of course he had his work on him even if he was going on a date. And he just had to be lit by the glowing nude statuette he gave David as a moving-in gift as he worked. "Don't worry about keeping me entertained in the meantime."

"Do you mind if I stay here, or should I let you work?"

"It's nothing important," said Qubine without looking up from his notes.

David finally sat down as well, and drank his tea.

"David."

"Yes?"

"Do you like it here?"

That question seemed to have come from nowhere. "Here as in Ebel, or here as in this home?"

"Both."

"You asked me this before."

"That was before you settled down."

David leaned back into the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. There was also a hatch on this side of the building. "I like the people. The environment isn't the best, but beggars can't be choosers." He turned towards Qubine. "I am still grateful — it's just that nothing can compare to Chandelier," he said with a smile.

"I know. Chandelier is ridiculous, even I am aware of that and I was born there." Qubine put the lid back on his pen. "You like the people."

"Well, I could have ended up in somewhere like Albona. Have you been there?"

"No, but I've heard a little bit about it from Theresa."

"The conditions in Albona are depressing and desperate. The people there are also depressed and desperate. Ebel struggles a bit, but it still thrives, and so does its people."

"You seem to know Albona quite well. Is that where you came from?"

That was a question, for whatever reason, Qubine had never asked before. Jean Paulet, after initially pretending that David had always lived in Chandelier — to help make him not feel like an outsider — did ask him where he used to live, after they became better friends. "Somewhere not very nice" was the clipped answer he received. He took the cue and never asked again. Qubine, though, never seemed to want to know about where David came from. Until now.

There was actually no real reason to not talk about it, except that David wasn't in the mood to discuss the past when Jean Paulet wanted to know. To Qubine, though, it was a touchier subject because Cranktown was governed by his late mother and she was not loved by the people there. Not that they could talk about it then — strict controls were in place to regulate what people were allowed to do, say, and even think.

David heard that Cranktown was an entirely different place since Pater took control, but memories of polite smiles, perfunctory greetings, of familiar strangers who never discussed what they thought, meant he would never want to return again. He was glad they finally got their freedom, but he didn't want to see those same faces who were now completely different to the people he thought he knew. These people might ask questions.

_Where was David when the bedevilled boy brought tragedy upon Crank Seminary?_

"No, but I prefer it here." That wasn't what Qubine was really asking, but David hoped it was enough of an answer.

His discomfort must be obvious, because Qubine shook his head at himself. "I'm sorry. The past is in the past."

"It's not in the past enough, that's the problem. Ask me again in a few years' time."

Qubine was still shaking his head. He put his things away and finished his tea. "I should go."

He had not even sat down for ten minutes yet. David quickly got up and took the empty mug. "You need a refill. What you should do is not rush home to work."

Qubine stared at David, and David stared back, nodding at the sofa. Qubine sighed, his shoulders sagging, as if relieved that he had not overstayed his welcome already. He unbuttoned his cuffs and folded up the sleeves. "I don't know what gives you the impression that I'm always working. I am on a date, in case you haven't realised."

"You were looking at your notes just now."

"It's my hobby, not work. You had your guns on you when we were at dinner too."

"Nobody travels around this level unarmed."

"True, but did you need both guns?" Qubine said with a smirk, knowing he had won. "Don't pick on my lifestyle and I won't pick on yours."

"But what would I do with my day?"

"I don't know, but that's not my problem." Qubine accepted a fresh mug of tea from David, muttering a thank-you.

"JP doesn't mind when I tease him. That's what best friends do."

Qubine put his tea down, then gave David a look of utter disdain. Jean Paulet's sister Charlotte once asked David why he played her brother against Qubine like a woman encouraging animosity and rivalry between her two lovers, and his answer was a smile and a shrug. It was just one of those jokes that kept on going and everyone played along. Qubine and Jean Paulet didn't always agree with each other but they were hardly enemies.

"Then he chooses to buy friendship with his dignity."

"As far as I know, yours can be bought with books."

"I'm not indiscriminate with my reading material. If you give me romance novels I will use them to build your funeral pyre."

David arched an eyebrow. "If you didn't read bodice rippers, then where did you learn your charming ways from?" he asked, taking out the ruby from earlier.

"My charm comes from within."

David choked.

They quieted down after a moment, each sipping his tea, looking up when they heard the soft sounds of a drizzle starting outside. Then their lights, including a few road signs Zephyr had "borrowed" from somewhere and the light-up statuette Qubine gave David, flickered, accompanied by a dramatic buzz, before returning to a reassuring and lasting brightness. It was a good thing they weren't waiting at the lift. Vashyron told David before that power cuts were rare, but who would want to wait in the rain?

Watching the rain, Qubine drank his tea and stifled a yawn. "Great."

"Desperate to leave?"

"You don't live on your own. It's rude to be here unannounced especially at this sort of hour. Even I know how you regular humans live."

Regular humans. True, even hunters like them had something that resembled a sleeping pattern most of the time, unlike Qubine. "With my housemates, that's not what you should be worried about at all." David watched his friend rub his eyes slowly. Was Qubine actually getting tired? What a rare sight. "Are you sure you don't want to use my room? The windows out here aren't fixed yet but there's no draught in the rooms."

"Yes, I'm fine."

Qubine being one of the most bloody-minded people he knew, David didn't bother to argue. Instead he left the living room briefly and fetched some blankets, dropping one beside Qubine, then took one with him to another sofa, pulled it over his shoulders and then wriggled his feet out of his boots.

"If I do fall asleep, don't try to leave without me. I don't want to explain to Pater why his brother's naked corpse was found on Rainy Bridge."

"Why naked?"

"They take anything they can sell on. But it depends on where they hit. If they put a hole through your chest, then most of the top half is ruined and they'll just take your trousers and shoes."

"Lovely." The idea made Qubine frown in mild disgust.

"I've been on a job where in the end we found an entire house full of things taken this way. I'm not sure what happened to it all in the end, the cardinals wanted to get the things returned to those people's relatives, but you can imagine how harrowing it could be to receive something that their loved ones were killed for."

"Hmm." The furrow between Qubine's brows didn't ease. "Tell me more about your work. It's interesting."

It was a request David got once in a while but for Qubine he was happy to oblige. He talked about the mundane, the strange, and the sometimes bloody. Soon Qubine made use of the proffered blanket, and within an hour his eyes slid shut.

Once he was sure Qubine was sleep, David stopped talking.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen Qubine sleep before, but the man must have been very busy lately. David was glad he was finally able to switch off.

Was it really a mistake that made him come here though, David wondered. It seemed plausible, but still quite uncharacteristic for Qubine to not notice details like that.

Oh well. Whatever the case, David wasn't going to complain.

 

"Do you have a hair comb, and what happened in the end?"

"What happened when?"

"What you were telling me before I fell asleep. Leanne got held back but they were expecting a woman to go into the building."

David passed Qubine his hair brush. "Let's save that for next time. You can use your imagination for now."

Pausing just before he pulled the elastic out of his hair, Qubine raised an eyebrow as if to say "next time?" before proceeding to sort his hair out. David realised he had never seen Qubine without his hair tied together, apart from in old photos of him and Pater as children, when he sported a page boy cut that suited him far too well. Qubine looked adorable as a child. He was probably just as cynical back then as he was now, but he certainly seemed angelic.

Now, Qubine had hair that was similar to Vashyon's, except he tended to tie it back loosely in a low tail, leaving soft layers to frame his face. Unlike his brother who got rounder as he grew up, Qubine's features sharpened with age. He was no longer angelic, but he was, to use an old-fashioned word, handsome. People often talked about Jean Paulet's looks, whereas Qubine had gone mostly unnoticed, probably because he wasn't a cardinal and therefore not as well-known, and handsome was just not fashionable anymore, whereas pretty was.

As it turned out, Qubine didn't look too bad with his hair down.

"What is it?"

Oops. Caught staring. "Just surprised that you were actually listening."

"If I didn't want to know then I wouldn't have asked."

"But you fell asleep."

Qubine shrugged. "Perhaps I enjoyed bedtime stories more than I'd imagined."

It was still dark outside, but from the house they could see the faint lights of the core lift flashing in the distance, which meant it was finally running again, so they slowly made their way there. The drizzle had stopped, leaving puddles on asphalt that reflected street lamps and neon signs. On the bridge the gangsters recognised David and didn't bother them, except for one who wasn't so smart and received a warning shot next to his feet and humiliation from his comrades as a result.

"Never has anyone been so happy about getting to keep their trousers on at the end of a date."

The joke made David wonder how often Qubine did bring any of his dates home, but he decided he really didn't want to know.

"I can't say I feel the same."

"One step at a time. Let's not rush this, David."

"Well, you already stayed over and got to see me flash my weapon. Somehow I think JP will die in a fit of jealousy."

"And the world will be a better place for it. I'm going to enjoy these bragging rights."

At the lift, the crowd that had gathered earlier was nowhere to be seen, leaving the plaza deserted. The only staffer for the lift was sleeping on the job. 

"Thanks for coming with me. It's a hassle, in the middle of the night."

David shook his head. "Not a hassle I mind having. The gangs should recognise you and leave you alone from now on."

"Oh? Am I under your protection now? Should I have paid you for the escort?"

"Vashyron might try to brand it like that but we don't actually run an escort service." David chuckled, showing Qubine the ruby from earlier which had been sitting in his pocket. "Besides, you've already paid."

Qubine snorted. Probably wanting to avoid a scene of lovers parting — despite the jokes earlier — he started for the lift. "See you."

"Qubine."

"What is it?"

"About the past... ask me again in the future. Give me time. There's nothing I wouldn't tell you," maybe apart from one thing, "you are my best friend."

"Am I now?" Qubine stepped onto the lift and closed the folding gates himself. The transport trembled, accompanied by the promising sounds of rotating pulleys. "Or am I just your best date?"

David laughed. The core lift ascended, taking his friend out of his field of vision.

Well, that was a strange evening. Though the part where Qubine kept making fun of him was wonderfully familiar.

Except.

David stopped, and looked at the ruby Qubine had given him, then up at the skyclimbing lift.

Was he just poking fun, or was he flirting with him?

Shaking his head at himself, David pocketed the ruby and started his way home.

Wishful thinking, David. Wishful thinking.


	7. Someone like Zephyr

[AR1139, summer]

Location-wise, Zephyr's house was more central. But Roeas lived on her own so that was where they preferred to spend the nights, when they did spend time together.

Roeas was someone with many admirers, so she was never out of choice. He didn't know what she saw in him, perhaps more than he liked; she had that thing about seeing through people. But it made him feel comfortable around her. No expectations, no judgements, no questions. In that sense she was a bit like David, except David liked to nudge him sometimes, when he thought Zephyr might benefit from something he didn't notice himself. Gently point him in the right direction. Whereas the time he spent with Roeas, talking about guns, battle strategies and the price of ammo, going on hunts, having sex, didn't really leave room for the softer topics. They wouldn't stand at the stove cooking instant noodles and idly talk about politics, shampoo and books. And Zephyr didn't mind; he could do that with David instead.

He guess he would have minded if he was looking for a relationship. He would have minded if he thought he deserved more. But for someone like him, Roeas was more than good enough.

That sounded like he didn't think much of her, which was not true. She was well-learned, though she never thought much of it. She was a demon on the battlefield, and Zephyr thought she was beautiful. But she never offered any promise and never demanded one from him either. It was as simple as that. And for someone like him, she was much more than he would even dream to have.

They never put down any rules or tried to bind each other with a relationship title, but when Zephyr got ready to go home in the mornings, she always kissed him before she let him go. And the feeling of it always lingered, the tingling sensation of a promise that could be his if he was ready for it. Over time he'd come to both look forward to and dread this kiss.

It was confusing.

Mornings were usually quiet at home. Neither Vashyron nor Leanne were morning people, and David didn't particularly like TV or radio, and would just be sitting in the living room with a cup of tea and a newspaper like a normal, real person. It was bizarre to see at first, but after a while Zephyr got used to the idea.

But this time when Zephyr got home, everyone was already up.

"Where the hell've you been?"

Zephyr paid no attention to Vashyron's question; he didn't see why he should have to tell him.

"Zeph—"

David stepped in between them, smooth and cool. "Leave it. Zephyr, we have an emergency job. Can you come?"

Ignoring the daggers Vashyron was glaring over David's shoulder, Zephyr nodded.

"How many targets?"

 

It wasn't a particularly long job, or a difficult one, but it needed all four of them to coordinate the successful rescue of a kidnap victim and eliminate the perpetrators. When they handed the kid back to his parents and received the reward, Zephyr turned around and walked away. The reward was smaller than the ransom; hunters were cheaper and the parents were willing to put their child through additional risks just to save a bit of cash. And they, the hunters who accepted this money, weren't much better than the kidnappers.

The world had gone mad.

Leanne caught up with him with his share of the money. "Zephyr?"

"I don't want it."

"What's wrong?"

 _What's wrong?_ Wasn't it obvious? "Leave me alone."

"If you let it bother you, you aren't gonna last long," said Vashyron behind him.

Zephyr didn't want to hear it.

 

They went home and took turns in the showers. When Zephyr came out, his pay was on the coffee table on his side of the house, and it sat there, mocking. Finally David put down two mugs of tea, took the money and put it in an envelope. He didn't say where it was going, but it was out of Zephyr's sight so he didn't care. He took his tea and went up to the roof.

"Where's Zephyr gone now?" came Vashyron's voice downstairs.

"On the roof. What's wrong?"

"He buggered off last night without telling anyone and almost cost us a job this morning! I need to—"

"Don't," David cut Vashyron off. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"He hasn't? I call what he did irresponsible."

"Have you ever set down contract on when each of us needs to be here? No. You accepted a job before checking if we have the capacity to take it on. And you call _him_ irresponsible?"

Vashyron was stuck for words for a moment before coming up with a counter-argument. "And how about teamwork? How do we work as a team if we can't rely on each other?"

"Does teamwork require us all knowing what each other is doing at all times?"

"Still, you'd assume everybody'd be home first thing in the morning!"

"Zephyr's an adult. He has no reason to be at home everyday. Frankly, if that's what you also expect of me, then we have serious issues."

"If he wants me to treat him as an adult then he better start behaving like one. Walking off in front of a client is not what an adult does."

"He is grown up enough to decide something wasn't worth his respect. And grown up enough to respect your decision to do what you want and not interfere."

At this point, Zephyr went and slammed the roof hatch shut so that he could drink his tea in peace. He couldn't understand why these people bothered. All this, for someone like him.

 

The summer days were long. When David appeared at the top of the stairs and told him to go down for dinner, it was still light outside. He didn't feel like eating.

"I'm not hungry."

David looked a little disappointed, but he didn't push. Zephyr sighed and went downstairs. Leanne was out with some friends, so there were only three plates.

What would it be like if it was just Leanne, Vashyron and David in this house?

No one was arguing anymore, but they weren't in the mood to talk either. They ate quietly, exchanging the occasional word. Zephyr left his seat as soon as he was done.

"I won't be home tonight."

"Where are you going?"

Zephyr realised he didn't have a term to describe Roeas, so he reached for the easiest one. "To my girlfriend's."

Vashyron put down his knife and fork, and stood, food still in his mouth. "What? Since when?"

"A while ago."

"But I haven't given you the talk about the birds and the bees yet!"

"Very funny."

"How about Leanne?"

"What about her?"

"What about her?" Vashyron repeated, throwing his arms in the air. "Weren't you going to go out with her?"

"Since when?"

Vashyron pushed his chair back, ready to go and strangle Zephyr. "You little bastard! You said her happiness is the most important thing to you!"

Zephyr didn't reply. Why the hell did Vashyron care? And why should he have to explain?

"Zephyr!"

So noisy. David had also left his seat and he was holding Vashyron back. Now they were disrupting David's dinner. "That time when Leanne and I went to pose as decoys for some guy's wedding and you busted in, your first reaction was 'daddy does not approve'. I know you weren't just being funny. I'm not good enough for her, I know that even if you never said anything. And I don't want her. Her happiness is important to me but I'm not the one to provide it. I'm not good enough. And what happens when I'm dead?"

Nobody said anything. David had the most sorrowful expression on his face, and he let Vashyron go.

"Zeph—"

Vashyron was cut off yet again.

"I know how to have sex with a woman. Can we stop playing house? It'd stopped being funny a long time ago and I don't need a family. I'm just here until Leanne's happy, then I'm done."

He felt so tired. Why did he have to explain this, wasn't it obvious? He'd told them before already.

"Zephyr, before you go out tonight, do you mind talking with me for a bit? Could you wait in my room?"

David's voice was soft, but there was nothing coddling about it. In fact, it demanded attention and compliance. Perplexed, Zephyr nodded and left the room.

"Vashyron, I have to ask you to back off completely from this and let me handle it."

"I... guess I better let you do it. I'm going to take a walk."

 

David's room was very tidy. Too tidy, even. He did say that he was used to not having a permanent home and it showed. But half a year into having his own room here, at least he finally have some photos of himself and his friends from Chandelier on display. He was clearly someone who knew how to make friends and who was valued in the hearts of these people, seeing how they still kept in contact with him now.

Other than that, there wasn't much to look at in David's room. David had a lot of clothes, it seemed like that was his main material comfort. He also had a lot of books, and Zephyr had come in here several times to borrow them before. They filled shelves and piled up beside the bed. On one of the shelves, there were a pair of sunglasses next to some books, and a single ruby.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah I'm... where's Zephyr?"

It was David and Leanne. Zephyr sat down at the door to listen.

"He's in his room. What's wrong?" David asked, and then it dawned on him. "You heard us just now? Were you at the door?"

No response that Zephyr could hear. Maybe she was nodding. 

"I just... when he says things like that, I get so scared he might kill himself. He said this before. He said he just wanted me to be happy, and then he could die." Leanne was crying. "The thing is, I know he means it. Once he tried to jump off a tower right in front of my eyes. He... he's been through a lot. Just being alive is difficult for him, but I told him not to run away, he had to look for a way to die with courage. Three years ago. But he's still saying the same thing now. Nothing's changed. It's so hard for him and I don't know how to help."

For a while there was only the sound of Leanne's quiet sobs. Zephyr leaned back against the door, cold metal against his back, and closed his eyes. In the rain, Lagerfeld's body on the ground beside him, shot by Leanne. Leanne telling him death would never make up for what he did.

He tried. Living every day took courage like nobody could imagine. But he couldn't see the point. He didn't know how to die with courage, either. Leanne had tricked him into an impossible task so that he would have to keep crawling, dragging the weight of his guilt behind him. Was this how to make up for what he had done, then, if death could not?

"Leanne, the first thing I must tell you is that you cannot live thinking that your happiness is tied to his fate. You cannot sacrifice your happiness so that he would keep going. That is no way for either of you to live." A pause. "Here, drink up.

"He is happy that you are here. He is thankful to you and Vashyron, even when he kicks and fights back. Every time he gets angry, makes a comment, buys new clothes for himself, cooks dinner, it's because he cares about what you do and how you see him. It's far easier to not care, but that's not what he's chosen.

"You know how people say men think about sex every five seconds? I... that's how I am with death. And sex. It get very busy in my head." David was chuckling, and Leanne laughed briefly as well. "I can tell you with some authority that it's the same for him. We're constantly thinking about our own deaths, and other people's. It's not always because of the past, but the brain's desire to reject the present. And that's our biggest fight — with our instincts. But if we can live every day without trying to have sex with everyone we see, then there is hope for us yet."

There was a long silence as each of them turned over the thoughts, and the questions, in their heads.

"Is this a bad time to ask why you're like that and how you know it's the same for Zephyr?"

"I need to talk to him first. Then maybe I'll bring it up during casual conversation, 'that time I almost had sex with something but decided killing it was better...'"

Leanne giggled.

"I know it looks like you've got nowhere with him, but he is already doing far better than you can understand. I can't promise you that he doesn't think about taking his own life — I can't even promise you that I don't think about it myself — but there are things that bind him here, just as there are things that bind me."

"Then... what can I do?"

"There are two people in my life who would stay with me if I went off the rails. They stop me from hurting anyone or myself, and just wait until I come to my senses, because what I live for is not something anyone can tell me; I have to work it out for myself. Try to be that person for him," said David, his voice solemn. "If he is being abrasive, he is fighting a hard battle and he is fighting _because he wants to live_. Don't judge him for it. And for goodness sake don't hit him with a frying pan."

The last piece of advice drew another giggle from Leanne.

"Thanks, David. It's hard for you to talk about this stuff, but now I think I know what I need to do."

"The harder it is to talk about something, the more important it is to talk about it when the time is right," David said. "Leave him to me. Go and wash your face."

"Yes sir!"

"Ah, Leanne? Are you bothered that Zephyr is seeing someone?"

A pause. "I'd have been upset a few years ago. My feelings aren't the same anymore, but... I'd be lying if I said it doesn't bother me now. But that's just because I never got to have him and it feels like defeat. And I don't like not winning."

"That's a good answer."

Leanne left the living room, and Zephyr could hear the doors between the two sides of the house being shut, then David coming towards his own room and rapping the door. Zephyr felt the mild vibration from the metal against his head, the sound deadened by the contact.

"So, there was this time when I almost fucked something but decided to kill it instead..."

Zephyr tipped his head back and laughed. He was confused as hell but somehow this also explained a lot of things. Someone whom he'd begun to look up to turned out to be quite a lot like him.

"Can I come in?"

Zephyr shuffled aside, reached up for the handle and opened the door.

"Remind me who you are, then."

 

Roeas hadn't expected to see Zephyr at her door, and she certainly hadn't expected him to sweep her up in his arms, drop her on the bed, put his mouth between her legs and work her until she screamed so loud it was a wonder nothing shattered.

He wiped his mouth and climbed on top of her, pulled the elastic from her hair — he liked seeing her hair down — before shuffling over to lie down next to her. She lay there for a few more minutes before trying to speak.

"Where the hell did you learn that?" She rolled onto her side. Her hands were on Zephyr's belt, making short work of the buckle.

"The seminary."

She glanced up at him, as if she knew this joke was also a nugget of information he wouldn't have thought to share before. She carried on, not missing a beat. Zephyr groaned when she freed him from his trousers, already hard.

"I like what it taught you."

"It ruined my life, though I did come away from it with one or two good things."

"Yeah?"

She put him in her mouth, and he gasped.

"I'll tell you... some other time..."

 

The breeze was lovely and cool. It hadn't stayed hot for very long this summer and when it was hot it was a nice, dry heat. But it seemed like the season was already ending, having barely started. Some people were worried that the climate control was starting to fail like it had in Level 7, but Vashyron wasn't going to waste his time worrying about that; life was too short already.

He turned around to lean against the handrail, his eyes sweeping across the roof to Zephyr's room. True to his word, he had gone out for the night.

"Who's his girlfriend?"

"Roeas."

"As in Nora's friend, the blonde hottie?" Vashyron asked, and David nodded.

"She asked him out, as far as I know."

"Fuck! How did he manage that?"

"Women think he's hot."

"Damn. He's really grown up, isn't he," Vashyron murmured. "He was fourteen or something when I picked him up. Seven years gone in a blink. Now he's ready to fly the nest."

David tilted his head gently. "Getting nostalgic?"

"Just thinking I haven't done him any good. Look how hard I messed up today. Thanks for reining me in, by the way."

"I'm sure he isn't angry with you."

"I wish he came with instructions."

"If there were instructions, I think we'd have kept it ourselves and our lives would be a whole lot easier."

"True, that."

"And I think you've been a fine dad."

"Really?"

"Really."

 

The next day, Zephyr came home, dropped something on top of the TV and then went straight upstairs to his room.

Vashyron got out of the sofa to see what it was. An envelope, with his name written across the front. He read the card inside and started to laugh.

_Thanks, Dad._


	8. Wedding

[AR1339, autumn/winter]

When Jean Paulet first broke to David the news of his engagement, he said the wedding would be held at a "lavishly decorated venue", which made David expect the worst. When he finally set eyes on it the day before the wedding, however, he was pleasantly surprised.

"It was Emmy, wasn't it," said David, taking in the sight of the ivory drapes, the lush planting, the silverware being polished on one side. "Because this is very tasteful. I would even go as far as saying it is wonderful."

"Charlotte," Qubine told him, putting his notebook away in a pocket. "She took over the management and decorating, but I didn't know that she really has the talent." He looked around too, and saw her coming over to them. "Is this a rebellion against years of oppression by your brother's bad taste?"

Charlotte was in a simple knee-length grey dress, a belt around her tiny waist, and her hair was pinned back. With a clipboard in her hand, she looked every bit a professional. "Our parents' bad taste, actually, if you are referring to the style of our manor. Not to say that Jean Paulet doesn't have bad taste, but it pales in comparison."

"Interesting," Qubine murmured. "Why don't you redecorate?"

"My brother wouldn't let me, for sentimental reasons. One day I'll get through to him."

"Or do it while he is away?" Qubine asked in a knowing tone.

"One way or another."

Qubine smirked at Charlotte's non-committal response. "Is there anything that we can help you with?"

She dipped her head and checked her notes. "Thank you for the offer, I've got everything covered. Please find my brother and do whatever it is you three amigos do, and make sure he makes it to the altar tomorrow."

With that, she turned and walked away.

"Three Amigos?" David repeated, leaving with Qubine. After all these years he still couldn't really tell if Charlotte liked or disliked him. "I think I prefer the Three Musketeers from last time."

"You weren't here the time she called us the Three Stooges. Let's go and find that groom."

 

There was no hotel in Level 4 that lived up to Cardinal Jean Paulet's standards, but erecting temporary accommodation with all the trimmings was not difficult for someone who was willing to pay for it.

They didn't have to look for Jean Paulet, because he was waiting in the accommodation, strangely sober and calm. He invited his two friends into his room, then shut the door. David didn't bother to hide his suspicious look. He knew Jean Paulet well enough to know that he wouldn't go wild or get drunk tonight, but this level of peace seemed to suggest forthcoming chaos. Gingerly he sat down, half expecting there to at least be a hidden whoopee cushion somewhere in the chesterfield, and was surprised for a third time of the day when nothing happened.

And then somebody brought in tea and snacks on a trolley, and he became even more confused.

"I was thinking," Jean Paulet began while pouring tea. With the finest porcelain, of course, "that it has been forever since us three had a chance to sit down and catch up. It's made me rather forlorn, I will not lie."

"You just want to sit and chat? Are you sure? Tonight is your last night as a bachelor." Confused, David accepted the cup of tea that was passed to him.

"My heart hasn't been that of a bachelor for a long time, mon ami. It is so devoted to my darling Emmy that it might as well already be married." After the tea came the biscuits. "In theory we could have gone to a gentlemen's club, but our friend Qubine would be bored, and you would wish you had joined the hen party instead, non?"

Oh. Dear. David sighed into his cup of tea. It wasn't often that Jean Paulet brought this up and made fun of him, so this conversation was definitely going to be all about him.

"Your friend Qubine," said Qubine while nonchalantly dipping a biscuit in his tea, "appreciates the absence of seedy strip clubs or drinking shenanigans, and sends you his thanks."

They sipped their drinks for a few moments, until David finally lowered his cup and sighed loudly. "Go on, then."

"Don't treat it like an interrogation - I want to know because I care!" Jean Paulet put his cup down and made a small growling noise of frustration. "It's about time you talk to me like a best friend!"

"We are such best friends that I assumed you know things without me having to say anything." And the less David told Jean Paulet, the less he had to lie to him about.

"Smooth," Jean Paulet laughed. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"No one that would suit your definition of 'seeing'. But I get my fill."

Jean Paulet drew a sharp breath, and frowned, whereas Qubine arched his eyebrows. David knew this was going to happen.

"It's not like what you are thinking. I am careful. I just have options, and no commitment."

"Oh, David..."

"Not everyone can find the love of his life the way you have. And I am happy for you."

"But," Jean Paulet pulled his seat closer. David tried to send Qubine a signal for help. but it was pointedly ignored. "A charming, wonderful fella like you — if I liked men I would be begging for your love! Does no one even catch your eye? Have you been on dates lately?"

David took his shoes off; it was going to be a long night. He could try to shift the attention away from himself, though. "Of course. Don't you know about my date with Qubine?"

Qubine parried it in a way that said he saw this coming. "I thought we aren't telling anyone about that."

They took turns to pour tea for themselves as Jean Paulet jumped up from his seat. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? I demand to know! Right now! Oh heavens, leave that tea alone and tell me!"

Perhaps it was better to let Qubine do the talking, being the one who was made to go on dates, and the one who didn't actually like men — or women, or anything at all for that matter. David tipped his head at him. "Qubine will tell you all about it."

"Oh, I get to provide the correct version of the story? How generous of you."

David raised his cup at his friend in a toast. "Have at."

"Well then." On the other end of the chesterfield from David, Qubine casually put the tea down on a side table, and leaned back. "I suppose it would only be fair that I gave you the whole story. You know how David and I have been dancing around our mutual attraction towards each other for a number of years now..."

This was not how David thought this would start. Swiftly suppressing his immediate shock, he interrupted, "already I am intrigued, and slightly afraid."

"Be quiet and let him continue!" Jean Paulet waved at David, impatient.

"So finally, I could not bear it any longer, and asked him out on a date. To my delight, he accepted.

"The dinner was non-eventful, so if you don't mind, I will skip that part."

"There was more?" David asked, wary yet relieved now that he was sure Qubine was only weaving an impossible tale for Jean Paulet's entertainment.

"Oh, there really is no need to be embarrassed; we keep no secrets from Jean Paulet," Qubine was dismissive of the concern. "After the dinner, we went to David's house, by which time I was already nearly overcomed by my desire for him."

David very carefully set his drink aside, because he was either going to spill it or choke on it.

"And then? And then?"

"Just why are you so interested, JP?"

"As soon as the door shut, I pushed him against it and kissed him full on the mouth."

David shuddered. Qubine carried on, placid and serene as if he was describing the weather.

"His mouth tasted like the sweetest nectar, and his body, muscles honed from hunter work, pressed hard against mine. I wanted to pull off all his clothes, and was granted that wish when he led me to his bedroom."

At that point, David pushed past his own uncomfortable squirming to search his coat pockets. "Hold on, give me a moment, I need to write this down. I think it will become a bestseller."

Jean Paulet said nothing, perhaps simply dumbfounded by listening to something like this from Qubine, or thoroughly disturbed by the mental imagery.

"David's dark skin tasted smoky under my tongue. He trembled under my touch, the sight and feel of it was intoxicating. It wasn't long though before he flipped us around, and then he was on top of me, his mouth kissing from my neck all the way down to my full, erect hardness. My hands gripped his golden hair as he worked me, his tongue expertly stroking my need whilst his hand massaged my balls. I knew I wouldn't last if he kept going, so I asked him to stop, and go on his hands and knees..."

"Wait!"

"Don't worry, I did remember to use lubrication."

"That's not it! Why am I the bottom in this story?" David protested, amused and horrified at the same time. Jean Paulet gave him a look then.

"Oh, but David, you do have such a fine backside."

"What? I don't even... just what is in this tea?"

"You are right but Jean Paulet, you are getting married tomorrow. Leave my David alone."

" _Your_ David? Someone please tell me I'll wake up from this nightmare soon."

Qubine paid David's theatrics no heed.

"He was hot, tight, and utterly glorious. I rode him hard, his knees gave and we slid flat onto the bed, but our rhythm only quickened, spurned on by our desire to reach climax. At last, I could hold it back no longer, and I spilled inside him while listening to his long, low moans of pleasure, the turgid flesh I was stroking in my hand releasing its seeds too." Qubine retrieved his tea, drank it, and raised his cup at his friends, totally unaffected, "And that was how it happened."

David brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I feel violated." He looked to Jean Paulet, his eyes peeking just above his knees. "Would you have any bleach here?"

"Marvellous idea, I think I need to soak my brain in some."

"Actually I was thinking of drinking it."

"I suppose the moral of this particular story is to not ask Qubine about his love life, because this could ruin my wedding night, what with these imageries, mon dieu!" Jean Paulet dramatics seemed genuine, for once. He went to David and refilled his tea. "But for the love of the Prelate, where did all that come from? It must be from a book?"

Still unbothered, Qubine held out his empty cup at Jean Paulet. "Antourion's private collection."

David gave Qubine a sidelong look. "Please tell me you are joking."

"Being able to remember anything after reading it once is both a blessing and a curse." Qubine shrugged. "Sharing is caring, and you know how much I care about you two."

Finally, after a very long, visible shudder, Jean Paulet clasped his hands together.

"It is traditional for a bachelor party to involve some manner of traumatisation, and that goal has definitely been achieved. At David's expense, unfortunately, but at least it didn't involve myself removing any clothing in a public place while intoxicated, which would have been a different kind of trauma." Moving to put the teapot away, Jean Paulet got his own tea cup, and went back to his friends. "To love, then. It will find you, David, and sweep you away. And maybe even you, Qubine, if you would just get out more."

They toasted.

To love. David drank the tea, tasting its bitterness on the tip of his tongue.

He'd already found it.

 

Jean Paulet pushed past Qubine and walked inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. Qubine had not changed out of his clothes yet, but only a bedside lamp remained lit and on the bed, an opened book lay face-down to keep the pages open.

"What?"

"About what you did earlier," Jean Paulet began, keeping his voice quiet; the building was only temporary, and the walls were thin, "it was very funny at the time, but if it had been anyone else, they would have felt thoroughly mocked and insulted. You are very lucky that David is such an easy-going man and chose to play along."

Qubine looked away; good, he was giving this some serious thought, and from the way his face was changing, the realisation must be dawning.

"Ah."

"Even if he was hurt he would not have shown it; my wedding is tomorrow, he would loathe to cause any fuss now; you know how he is. For the love of whatever you still hold sacred, be careful with what you say from now on. We all enjoy gritting our teeth at your words, but there is a limit."

"Noted. Anything else?"

Two hands landed on Qubine's shoulders. "You are faithless, I know, but you are a good man, so I don't worry for your soul. You are a scientist, inventor, historian, economist, mathematician. And I have faint suspicions that you're a far better artist than Garigliano, except you don't show people your work. You are a true genius, of which there were few in history, who for years pretended to fight with my sister to be top of the class. Your social skills are lacking, but I confess I cannot tell if that is a deliberate choice." Fingers dug in, gripping firmly; years of archery had done him good. "But no man is an island. Remember that."

Qubine held his stare, his demeanor not quite cold, but impassive. Not a single chip made to his exterior. "And I was wondering when this would start descending into insult," he said, but at least he didn't try to remove Jean Paulet's hands, which in itself could be considered a triumph. "I'll take a leaf from David's book and tolerate it, and even thank you for the heartfelt advice. Now do me a favour and go to bed; Emmy's wrath at you being kept up tonight is not something I want to experience."

It seemed like this was as far as he was going to get this time. Contrary to public belief, Jean Paulet knew when to back off and in this case, literally, letting himself out before Qubine made him. He didn't even get to finish saying "goodnight" before the door shut in his face, which prompted him to raise his voice.

"Je t'aime! Goodnight!"

"Go to bed!"

 

Watching Jean Paulet get married felt like the end of an era, although that era had probably already ended the day David moved down from Chandelier. When he said to Emmy, "thank you for taking this one off our hands" during his best man speech, he hadn't been sincere, but he bore her no grudge and was genuinely happy to see one of his best friends tie the knot. Everyone had to grow up and move on at some point, so it might as well be done in style.

The wedding was as small and intimate as it could be for someone like Jean Paulet, which meant all the cardinals were present, including the top three of Rowen, Garigliano and Antourion. It was a fully formal occasion that, even with Charlotte's superb management, kept the groomsmen entirely occupied until after the reception, when there was a lull between events. David was about to make his way to Paris, who he never got to see as much as he liked, when Qubine's elbow brushed his side.

Charlotte had Paris's attention now, so David gave his to his friend instead. "Hmm?"

"I'm sorry about last night. That was very rude of me."

Last night. David was trying to not think about that. It was hurtful, but not in the way his friend was thinking of. And even he had to admit it truly was hilarious. Jean Paulet was worried enough to talk with him in private before bed last night, and they agreed they both knew Qubine was not the most well-adjusted person both socially and mentally. But they loved him, so they would just have to let it go.

David did wonder if Jean Paulet worried about the same thing as he did, that Qubine was playing the mad scientist facade to his advantage so that they could not see that slow decline, if there was one. But the night before the wedding was not the time to talk about this sort of thing.

"I hope you know that I'd never deliberately affront you, and I won't do it again, not even unintentionally."

"You're overthinking it. I didn't take offense. If you have a problem with my preferences or lifestyle, we would've stopped being friends a long time ago."

That wasn't quite the point and David didn't think Qubine would believe him, but if he accepted what he said then they could both save some face, move on and have a laugh about it years later.

Fortunately, Qubine understood the intention and nodded.

"So... enlighten me, did that really come from Cardinal Antourion's library?"

Qubine nodded again. "But I don't think he's aware of it. He collects every publication he can find, but can't read them all. That particular gem was uncovered by one of the maids."

David rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "I regret not visiting Antourion more often when I had the chance, now."

"Come on, your love life must be much more exciting than those dreadful adult novels."

David had already said last night that he didn't have a _love_ life, but he didn't bother making emphasis of it again. "You call them that, and yet still you read them. Didn't you say before that they are only good for lighting fires?"

"That was my conclusion after reading several samples of the genre."

"JP was right, you need to get out more," said David with a smile. "Even if it's only to visit me."

The conversation paused when Pater waved at them, one hand clutching at the bouquet he had caught earlier. They smiled back at him.

"Another date?"

Qubine was volunteering to sacrifice his workshop time. He must really be very sorry about last night. "As long as it does not turn out the way you described last night."

"If you prefer, the maid also found a collection of love poems..."

"I am starting to wonder about your relationship with this maid."

"Whereas I am wondering about my brother and Leanne."

Pater had gone over to Leanne, who was hired along with her housemates to provide security for the wedding. She was admiring the flowers in the bouquet he caught, some of which were real, and came from the garden of Pater's manor. His late mother had spent a lot of money trying to cultivate flowers, a piece of work that was now being carried forward by Qubine. The successes were perhaps nowhere near the late cardinal's expectation, but huge in the minds of many. When Emmy was given these for her bouquet, apparently she nearly wept.

This was one of the better pieces of work Qubine's mother had done, and which David was glad his friend had taken on. But the other projects she had before her death…

David gritted his teeth and shut the thought from his mind.

"What about them?"

"I've never seen him so infatuated with anyone. He talks about improving Basel for her, and improving himself for her."

"Love inspires people to better themselves as well as do selfless acts."

Qubine looked like he had problems getting his head around the notion.

"You do things for Pater without asking for anything in return," David said helpfully. "And for JP and me, too."

"Did I ever say I expect nothing in return from you scroungers?"

Pretending to wipe away a tear, David sighed. "And I thought you loved me. What do you want me to do to repay this debt, then?"

"I will think of something one day."

"I'm going to be blunt this time: no sex."

"And here I thought I could sell you to prostitution rings."

David would pretend to weep some more had he not spotted Charlotte beckoning them over. She still had that dispassionate look in her eyes whenever she looked at him. Granted, she really had no reason to like him at all. "My future sister-in-law needs us to get back to work."

"Now that you've reminded me of that relationship, I know I've said this before, but the way people are connected around here is too incestuous."

"Basel is too small," David said, the true sentiment in the statement, out of everyone here, perhaps only Qubine could comprehend.

"I agree."

 

Dancing, most probably, was something Jean Paulet could safely claim he could do better than his two best friends. Somewhat height-conscious, he almost always wore heeled boots but he could move in them like he was born to dance. With such display, although it was traditional for the groomsmen to join the dance floor, nobody minded that Qubine and David stayed away and recuperated from a long day's work instead.

With his well-earned cup of coffee, David went to sit down next to his brother Paris, who gave him an exasperated look even before David opened his mouth.

"Don't you start."

"Don't I start?" David repeated, laughing at Paris's wary face. "What've I done?"

Paris gave David another look, as if reevaluating the situation. "You weren't going to ask me when I'm going to pop the question to Charlotte?"

Ah, so that was why. "Well, now that you've mentioned it..." The torture in Paris's eyes made David laugh again. "Madam's been nudging you?"

"She's been going on about it ever since Jean Paulet got engaged. I thought she's finally got desperate enough to get you to talk to me."

"She would have to be very desperate to do that." Paris's mother had not contacted David ever since he left her house over a year ago. "I suppose the two of you have been together for a long time, but you're only... 23? There's no hurry."

"I wish she'd think like you, brother."

After all this time, it still gave David a warm fuzzy feeling whenever Paris called him that.

"Anyway, you'll probably find a ring in your pocket when the time is right, no?"

Paris actually laughed graciously this time; Charlotte was well known not for being pushy, but for her careful arrangement in every aspect of life. It wouldn't be a surprise if she had her marriage timetabled.

"She isn't the only one who plans."

"So you do have plans?"

"Sort of. It just involves... waiting." Paris shifted. "Enough about me. How about you?"

David cocked his head. He forgot that weddings were the sort of events where everyone would ask about each other's relationship status. "No wedding bells on the horizon, if that's what you're asking."

"There's someone—"

"Don't try to matchmake me again." David suppressed a snicker, and Paris hid his face in his hands in embarrassment.

"Well I didn't know! And you didn't tell me to stop! I looked like an idiot when Charlotte finally told me and laughed in my face!"

"Because it was funnier that way, and I did enjoy the dates; they were lovely ladies. And one of them is now right here, happily married to my best friend." David nodded in the newlywed's general direction. "So they weren't a waste of time."

The road to Hell could be paved with good intentions, luckily this good intention was one that had unintended positive results. Of course, if David did find someone wealthy from Chandelier to marry, then he could have stayed there for the long term, and nothing anyone said could form legitimate reasons for him to leave.

"But there is someone I'd like you to meet."

"Paris..." Now his brother was looking at him with begging eyes. David wondered if he learned that from Rush. He sighed, too fond of Paris to make him stop. Besides, he hadn't quite given up hope yet. "Give me a call then. I'm free most nights."

"I just think your home is in Chandelier, with us."

"I know. You're the best little brother anyone could hope for."

 

They waved Jean Paulet and Emmy off to their honeymoon. The pair wasn't going far or for long, since Jean Paulet couldn't stay away from his Cardinal duties for more than a few days, but they still deserved a little getaway.

"I still don't know what she sees in him," said Qubine.

"If you did, you'd have married him, so be glad," David told his friend, enjoying the reaction this evoked. "So, he might be right last night. I've just got a date arranged."

"And it's not with me?"

"Nope."

"Who is bold enough to steal you from right under my nose?" Qubine mock gasped, turning about to see all the remaining guests. "It's Rowen, isn't it? He looks like the cradle-snatching type."

Cardinal Rowen, the top man of Basel. That would be hilarious if it was true. "You'll find out, if it goes well."

"How about our date?"

"Thursday?"

"Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note about Cardinal Antourion and his maid: according to Antourion's valet, the maid is quite a dominating figure who runs the house and gets her master to do/help with the tidying up. Antourion is a bit afraid of her. XD The valet is convinced that she'd go places.


	9. A Business Proposal

[AR1339, autumn/winter]

The ruby from Qubine sat on a shelf, along with a few books and a pair of sunglasses. David stared at it for a while, then put it inside the chest pocket of his leather jacket.

"Hey, if you want lunch tell me now, I'm gonna start cooking!"

"No thanks," David replied to Zephyr, sat down on the arm of the sofa and pulled his boots on. "Don't have time."

"And dinner? Vashyron said he'll make it though, don't say I didn't warn you."

David paused, shoelaces in both hands. "Probably not," he said after a moment's thought, "I might be gone for a while."

"Right. See ya, get us some cool jobs."

"I'll do my best."

 

Charlotte was waiting for him at the old Cafe Chelsey site, with a familiar face beside her, who David recognised as one of Jean Paulet's security staff. When she saw him arrive, she said something to the man and he left them to themselves.

She was wearing shirt and trousers, the first time David ever saw her in anything that was not a dress or a skirt. Her shoes were plain, low and practical for the uneven floor. With the staff watching the site entrance, he followed her towards the far end, which looked outward into the vast nothingness beyond Basel's protection.

As good a place as any to die, David thought.

A sinister-sounding thought, perhaps, but David couldn't think of any other reason she might call him out. A job would not require face-to-face meeting. His mere existence was a constant threat to Paris, even though he didn't live on Chandelier anymore and Paris would never listen to what anyone said about the need to _remove_ David for good. Charlotte didn't need power — her brother Jean Paulet was also a Cardinal, after all — but she loved Paris and it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume she would try her best to protect him.

And what was David supposed to do? Run away? Kill her? He couldn't do that.

As for his life, well, it wasn't worth much anyway.

He looked at the edge, surveying the flimsy railing. If he "fell off" from here, then she wouldn't be involved, and Paris and Jean Paulet would never know this meeting had taken place. Hadn't he been looking for a chance like this for years now, to die for a reason rather than because he'd given in?

He could just hear Rush's voice now, telling him to stop thinking about death for a minute. According to Rush, he was a certifiable pessimist. David believed he was, in every way, an optimist who was forced kicking and screaming into a box of pessimism.

See, now, at least he was going to hear what she had to say first, rather than jump to his death straight away. Who said he wasn't an optimist?

Finally Charlotte stopped, and she turned towards him, her face still without any trace of a smile.

"I've bought this place," she began, drawing his attention not towards the outside, but back at the site of the cafe, "and I am going to turn it back into a cafe, serving the finest coffee."

Points to Rush this time. "Oh?" Now why did she want him here?

"Do you know anything about coffee?"

"Can't say I do."

"The best coffee beans in Basel grows in Level 10, on the outskirts of Royotia. For my business to be a success, I will need a steady supply."

This was starting to make sense. "You want me to harvest coffee?"

"No, that would take too long." The corners of Charlotte's lips actually turned several degrees upwards. "I will recruit local people to do that. But they will need to be protected from the wildlife."

A business proposition. Very interesting. But so much of this did not make sense in David's head, and he would not have answers unless he asked the questions.

"Why do you want me to work for you?"

She started strolling, so he followed. "For a multitude of reasons. I've been studying the statistics. Did you know that the average life expectancy of a hunter like you is only 36 years?"

"Isn't that... good news to you?"

She gave him a look that reminded him of Qubine, long suffering and exasperated. "No, because Paris and my brother both love you. And I know you're not a threat to Paris at all, because he told me what you said to Cardinal Rowen about getting your name removed from his list. So unless you are hiding a grand scheme... in which case, I take my proverbial hat off to you."

Paris told her about the chat with Rowen. David did ask him not to, because it would look like Paris got handed his cardinalship rather than having obtained it by merit, but David should've guessed that he wouldn't keep it from Charlotte. He was too honest, and maybe too keen to make Charlotte like his half brother.

Seeing that David remained silent, Charlotte continued. "Over 90% of hunters die from wounds inflicted by bullets or bomb shrapnel, rather than by monsters. In short, most hunters die fighting another human being. An employment contract from me would include a clause which forbids you from participating in battles that involve human opponents for as long as you are employed. Other than that, I don't care what you do on the days when you're not working for me. Consider this as my measure to protect my own assets."

That was something David would have to talk to Vashyron about. It would make the work situation a little complicated if David started to be selective about his jobs.

"This limitation wouldn't extend to anyone who you want to ask to join you on harvest trips. How many people are required and how much firepower you need are judgements you would have to make. My reward would be based on the workers' feedback and the size of the harvest."

"My coworkers would like the sound of that." Jobs from cardinals and their relatives always paid well. David could already imagine Vashyron rubbing his hands asking when they could start. "What are you other reasons?"

Charlotte stopped in her tracks, and looked at David in the eye. "I want to get married soon."

This was not what he was expecting to hear. Paris only said last week that it wasn't the right time yet... this could not be good. "That sounds great, but I don't know how that relates to your business venture."

"It's good that you don't, it means you really have no ambition to be out of Paris's shadow, or even to be known at all," she said. "People know me as the sister of Cardinal Jean Paulet. I need to achieve something for myself so that I am judged for my abilities rather than my connections. I want this to be Charlotte's cafe rather than Cardinal Paris's wife's cafe. Then I can get married."

Could this be what Paris meant when he said he had to wait until the time was right to propose? Seemed likely.

"This isn't very fair. When you put it that way, it's just blackmail."

"Yes. It's exactly that. Work for me, for the sake of your brother's marriage." Now she was smiling at David for the first time. She somehow managed to look both sincere and manipulative at the same time.

"I think I know why Paris is going out with you: he's too scared to say no." David smiled back, but not quite managing to produce the same level of calculated sincerity as Charlotte. He felt like he was merely a piece on Charlotte's chessboard. A useful one that she wasn't planning on sacrificing yet, but one could never tell. "I'll talk to the people I'm working with, and then get back to you."

"The cafe will be up and running in four months. In six months' time you will see other reasons why the success of this business will be beneficial to you. Then, I can be married within two years, a mother within three."

"Do you have the next three years of Paris's life planned as well?"

"Twelve years."

David wished he could tell if she was joking or not.

 

"I thought you weren't going to be back for dinner."

David shrugged, dropping a box of takeaway on the counter. Spotting the logo of his favourite kebab shop, Vashyron gleefully poured its meaty contents onto a serving plate.

"How'd it go today? What's the job?"

David outlined Charlotte's offer to him, and the strings attached. Focused on the cooking at hand, Vashyron didn't say a word until his friend finished, his eyes never leaving his cooking.

"You don't need to ask me, mate. I don't own you."

"Well," David's shoulders sagged as he let out a deep breath, a smile across his lips. "But we are a team. You do see me as part of the team, I hope."

"Then you should be asking Zephyr and Leanne as well. But if you just want my opinion," finally Vashyron turned around, frying pan in hand, and David backed away to give him some room, "there are obviously people who care about you a lot and they're trying to look out for you."

"I know."

"Then what's there to think about? 's not like we need to stop being a team altogether."

Lucked out again, David thought to himself. If the fact that he always ended up in the hands of wonderful people was life's consolation prize for past events, then perhaps he gained more than he had lost.

But that kind of karmic balance would require there being a god, and the god he knew was not interested in this sort of thing.

"Actually, there might be something in the deal for you guys too," he said, picking up a few plates, "but I'll explain that to the whole team over food in a minute."

 

"This is rare."

"What is?"

"For you to call me."

"If we are meeting up tomorrow, you need to give me a time and location."

"Are we just 'meeting up' now? And here I was, trying to pick an outfit."

"Haven't you already had a date this week? How did it go?"

"It was good." David hoped this didn't mean his own little brother knew his tastes in men, because that would be a little disturbing. "The guy was very sweet. I might try a second date."

"I'm shocked. History is in the making."

"I assume that means 'I'm glad, David, you deserve a good night out with someone nice'."

"Last I heard, you frequently have good times with people anyway."

David fell silent. He had never said anything about frequency. Was this just how his friends thought of him now? The one who slept around with everyone?

A long pause. Then Qubine muttered a four-letter-word, and said, "I did it again, didn't I."

At this stage, David felt he had every right to be very angry. He had had a strange day, one that could be described as surprisingly good considering Charlotte was planning his future rather than planning to kill him. He was going to tell Qubine about the new venture, but now he didn't really feel like it. He didn't feel like being angry either. He just—

"David."

—wondered why he was best friends with someone like Qubine.

"David, I'm sorry."

"Are you actually a sociopath, or is it just me you have a problem with?" David snapped. Playing darts on the other end of the living room, Zephyr paused and gave him a curious look, and then decided it was none of his business.

No response from Qubine, but David could still hear his faint breathing, so he waited, damming his torrent of angry words for now.

"I'm just hopeless when it comes to making jokes." Finally Qubine said in an undecipherable tone. "Can I buy you dinner tomorrow?"

An apology dinner. Rather like the day they first met, except it was lunch. "I don't even let a date buy me dinner. But you can get me lunch."

"I'll see you at noon then. I'll go to yours."

"Fine."

After the call, David went back to his room, took his jacket off and hung it back in the wardrobe. But after a moment's thought, he reached for it again, and retrieved the ruby he had put in the pocket earlier in the day.

He placed it in the lockable box — a mini-safe the size of a phone directory, in which he kept all the things that should never see the light of day again, documents that could cause anarchy and topple Basel if they were published. A box which, ironically, he asked Qubine to make for him just before he left Chandelier.

Dammit. He shouldn't have got mad at Qubine, that was just the way he had always been. But maybe this would teach Qubine something? Was it actually time to consider taking Qubine by the hand and teaching him basic social etiquette rather than accept this was how it was always going to be?

David looked up when he heard the phone ring, and Zephyr picking it up. Within a few moments he could tell the call was for him, and he sighed, going over to take the receiver from Zephyr. It must be Qubine again. Perhaps calling him a sociopath just now was a bit too harsh—

"David? It's Rhagoh. We had dinner a couple of nights ago?"

Not Qubine. David almost sighed with relief. "Rhagoh," the voice on the other end of the phone sounded uncertain, so David tried to put a smile in his own voice. "We did. I had a lot of fun."

"I wondered if it's too soon to call but..."

Rhagoh came across slightly low in confidence, but he was fun, and very sweet. A bit like Rush actually, and nothing like Qubine.

"Actually I was thinking about ringing you, so... can we do dinner again?"


	10. Rhagoh

[AR1140, winter/spring]

Rhagoh came from a family of merchants who made their rubies manufacturing artificial flowers. It was said that the flowers, the animaquies in particular, were very life-like, but no one could really tell if that was true. Still, they were hugely popular and his family had had a home in the Outer Wall for four generations.

That was all the information about Rhagoh David had heard from Paris, and it was enough. Spending time finding out about each other was the fun part of a date, so any more details would have spoiled it.

Rhagoh turned out to be... different, when they met for the first time. David wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Rhagoh was very unlike anyone David knew. He had skin even darker than David's, an almost smoky shade with a soft shine that made it look velvety. He had black eyes, and short black hair that was styled slightly upwards. And he had a timid smile that would gradually warm up when it was returned.

Even though David was sure Rhagoh knew he wasn't only looking for love, but also for someone who could give him a home on Chandelier — like every other opportunity-seeking, ruby-grabbing person in Basel — they had a good night out together. David had resolutely refused to evaluate what Rhagoh could possibly give him, because on the day he moved to Ebel he had already told himself there was no way back, and he was only seeing Rhagoh now because Paris wanted him to give it a chance. Perhaps that sentiment came across, or Rhagoh didn't care too much what David's intentions might be, and simply wanted to find a companion. After the first date, they decided they should have another one.

Rhagoh was different, and David enjoyed spending time with him. He was frail, and admitted without shame that the word "hunter" scared him a bit, but Paris put in a few good words and he was glad he plucked up the courage to meet David. He liked jazz, something that David didn't have much of an opinion on but through which he learned that Rhagoh was a good dancer, something he could well appreciate.

They kissed on the second date, but it wasn't until some time later that David took him home, something of a record for him, both in terms of timescale as well as the fact that he took anyone home at all. In the morning that followed, Zephyr hardly raised an eyebrow when he saw another man coming out from David's room. Maybe he just didn't care if David had overnight guests.

A few months on, and they usually saw each other once during the week, and once at the weekend if David didn't have a job to go to. Rhagoh's work days were long, and sometimes he would only make it down to Level 4 late in the night, stay with David for a few hours, and then travel back up for work first thing in the morning. It took some time to get used to the idea but David understood that Rhagoh not only did it because there was no other option — David could not go to Chandelier to see him — but also because he enjoyed the feeling of giving. He didn't find the travelling a chore because it was part of the giving process, and he didn't mind undersleeping because it meant his trip was a success. Under that weak exterior was a man made of sterner stuff, someone who thrived on dedication in both work and life.

"He's nice," Zephyr had remarked once, after watching Rhagoh dash out the door in the morning.

"Maybe a bit too nice," said David, wry.

"Don't knock it."

"I just feel like I'm taking advantage."

"I'm not the person who can comment on these things but I guess he thinks you're worth it."

"I hope so."

They weren't in love, not yet, but maybe they could make this work.

 

Since his last blunder that resulted in David calling him a sociopath, Qubine didn't ask about David's love life anymore. The next person to raise the question was his other good friend, Jean Paulet.

"I was having dinner with your brother last night," he said on the phone, "and he mentioned that you're seeing someone and things seem to be going quite well. Who is this and why am I not told, hmm?"

"Because you get too excited and I don't want to jinx it. Things are going fine, I'm not going to say more than that."

"Very well, then. As long as you're happy."

Now this didn't sound right. "Really? You're not going to ask?"

"You can tell me whatever you want me to know, but if you don't want to tell there's not much I can do."

"If you think you can just ask Paris, I doubt he knows very much either."

Jean Paulet made a sound of sore disappointment. "You're hiding too much from me, mon ami! Did you know I only recently found out Charlotte is opening a café? It's almost ready and I only found out last week because she gave me an invitation to the opening! And she said you're going to work for her? Why does nobody tell me anything anymore?"

"She didn't tell you?" David asked even as the reason came to him. "I guess she doesn't want you to try and help."

"So stubborn, this sister of mine. Even now, she still won't let me see the plans. Do you know if there will be a héliport?"

Even though David should be used to Jean Paulet's ridiculousness by now, he still nearly choked. "It's a cafe."

"I know. But there is only one landing place for helicopters in Level 4 right now, near the power station. The emergency services have been appealing for another, and I have been thinking, one near Charlotte's business wouldn't be a bad idea. It's close to the city for the services, Charlotte could get to work quickly, and the rest of us can get our coffees easily too."

That made it sound like they were all terrible caffeine addicts. "Except the noise would be terrible for business."

Jean Paulet thought about it. "Good point. I'll get Qubine to do some noise calculations and see where we can put it."

"Speaking of Qubine, I haven't heard from him for a while."

"Apparently he's had a breakthrough on whatever he's working on, experiments of something or other. He was at dinner last night though."

"You managed to lure him out of his cave?"

"Oh I don't know. Paris invited him last night and he went." As usual, Jean Paulet omitted enunciating the final consonant in Paris's name and added a rising intonation to it. "But when I asked if he wanted to do dinner again this weekend he said he'd already seen enough of my face! Mon dieu! If I could have reached down the phone line and strangled that socially-challenged imbécile!"

Now that was extreme, even for Qubine. "Is he all right? Was there something I missed?"

"He must have breathed in too many chemicals. I will keep an eye on him, don't worry," said Jean Paulet. "Never mind that man! I'm considering commissioning Cardinal Garigliano to create a piece of artwork for Charlotte's new café. What do you think?"

"I... think there might be other things more suitable."

 

"Do you want a drink or something?"

"I'm good, thanks," said David, lifting his arms slightly so that Irina could put pins down the sides.

Rush leaned against the door and watched his younger sister play dress up on his friend. He still remembered the way Irina's eyes lit up when she first met David, and how she insisted on measuring him. Apparently David was a perfect size — as in every part of him measured exactly right for his particular size, or something like that — and this meant he should be her mannequin whenever she had a new piece of design ready. Bless David for humouring her, really.

"By the way, you know those crazy mannequins at the Forest of Idols?"

"Yes?"

"Doesn't Cardinal Garigliano call them 'faeries'?"

Even before Irina looked up from her work to shoot a glare at her brother for being rude, David started laughing, and managed to get pricked by one of the pins.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Irina quickly removed the offending pin.

"No no, I'm sorry for moving."

"You are supposed to be able to move in this, I just won't pin it so tight," said Irina, kneeling on the floor and putting pins down a trouser leg. If those could even be called trousers at all. "It's going to be all about skin tight next season. The fabric can take it but I just need to know how much tighter I can make this without it looking..."

"Pornographic?" suggested Rush.

"Explicit," she corrected him, blushing a little.

"Really? It's already really explicit from where I'm standing."

"Huh?" Irina sat back on her heels to see what her brother meant, and got herself an eyeful of the shape of David's crotch. "Oh, um!" She dipped her head and started gathering her things. "A couple of inches looser than this then! I think we're done! You can change out of this now, thanks!"

With that, she darted out of the room.

David sniggered. "Should I have said something?"

"Should you?" Rush repeated, incredulous yet amused. "If I didn't know better I'd have thought you're sexually harassing my sister."

"Hey, wasn't I the one being harassed? And at least I'm grower not a shower."

"Like I need to fucking know that." Now David was just harassing him, Rush thought fondly. "Anyway, what happened? I thought you said you're busy today."

"Rhagoh said he had a bad headache and couldn't leave the house." When Rush eyebrows shot upwards, David explained further. "His family is a bit overprotective."

Rush couldn't help but grin. "You call them overprotective, and yet you look so worried."

"He really didn't sound well on the phone, I couldn't tell if he couldn't move or his family's telling him not to go anywhere. And there's nothing I can do."

Aw, David actually looked quite adorable right now. His situation did suck, though. "I could try smuggling you to Chandelier if you really want."

"That would be one way to meet his family." David started getting changed. "Thanks though. I'll just call him later."

Health worries aside, it was so good to see David having someone to focus his attention on finally, without it seeming like he was just throwing his affection down a void. Whatever the truth was — and Rush knew for a fact that it was far more complicated than what met the eye — David just deserved some nice, simple, good old-fashioned love. In Rush's opinion anyway.

"Um, Rush."

"What?"

And let's be honest, David wasn't just an ace bloke, he was good looking too. If Rush liked guys, he _so_ would.

"I'm going to need your help to get out of these trousers."

But, unfortunately.

"Nope, you ain't getting me that way!" Rush cackled, and left his friend to his struggles and wriggles.

 

"It's something I've been working on for nearly eight years."

"That long? You've never mentioned it before. What research is this?" David counted the years. It must have started around the time he moved to Chandelier, then.

"You'll know when it's successful," said Qubine, cryptic. "I need to go and check on the results now; everything is time-sensitive."

"Fine. Next time just tell JP you're at a critical stage of your work, otherwise he'll come complaining at me again."

"He'll complain either way, it was more fun to annoy him. Right, I must go."

"Okay, talk again later."

David put down the phone receiver, checked the time, then lifted it again and dialled another number. It rang four times before being picked up.

"Yeah?"

The voice sounded a lot like Rhagoh's, but rougher. "Hello, is Rhagoh there please?"

"Rhagoh? He went to sleep a while ago."

"I see." Hopefully it meant he was feeling better. "Thank—"

"Who's this?" A pause, and then it sounded as if the speaker had a sinister smile on their face. "Oh, I know. _David_."

 _David_. The original pronunciation of his name. He changed it when he moved to Chandelier, when he wanted to leave his old life behind. There should be no one left who would call him that.

David forced air down his lungs and told himself to stay calm. "Who am I speaking to?"

"I'll tell you what, _David_. Leave Rhagoh alone. You don't want to continue."

"What are your reasons? Is this a threat against me, or against him?"

"Depends on how you look at it. But does it matter? I've given you advice. Follow it if you know what's good for you both."

"Who is this?"

The line went dead.

David tried calling again right away, but it would not go through. Whoever it was must have unplugged the phone.

Gritting his teeth, he made another call.

"Hello?"

"Rush? It's David. I need your help."


	11. Ghost

[AR1140, winter/spring]

They met up near the core lift. Seeing Rush's reaction reassured David that he wasn't just overreacting, but it didn't help the actual situation.

"Do you have his address?" Rush asked, and David nodded. "Right. I'll go and find out what's going on. You go home and wait by the phone, I'll call as soon as I can."

"You can't possibly think I can just go home!"

"Yeah but what're you gonna do? If you wait here for me it'll take you even longer to find out what's happening."

"I'm going too," said David, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head.

Forty-five minutes later, Rush was staring up the wall of the house where Rhagoh lived. He checked his guns and made sure they were securely clipped into the holster. David did the same.

From this point, it would be better if Rush stayed nearby and only went if David called for backup. If they were caught half way up this building, Rush could easily lose his job and go to jail. Not to mention David had already travelled on Rush's lift pass as well. "Rush, if you—"

"Let's go."

Neither of them were experienced at scaling walls, but fortunately the way the stones were laid made it easier than it looked — he would have to talk to Rhagoh about home security later. Following closely behind Rush, David kept as quiet as he could. There really was nothing more he could say about this friend who would drop everything and take on huge risks to help him out at a moment's notice, and even tolerate how insufferable he was to insist he also came and saw for himself.

Rhagoh had told David before that his room was on the first floor and faced south. The first set of windows they came across belonged to an empty room. It was too dark so Rush couldn't see well, but David took a good look and there was no sign of life inside. So they moved along to their left to the next room, and peered over the window ledge.

Rhagoh was in bed, dressed only in his pyjama bottoms. The sheet had been thrown back, though he looked like he was just sleeping. Or he could be dead, smothered of air by someone earlier, it was impossible to tell.

David tested the windows. They were locked from the inside. Earlier on he was slightly disturbed that Rhagoh's home was so insecure, and now he wished it even more so.

Suddenly Rush started tapping on the glass.

"If he wakes up, he'll open up for you. I'll drop down. If everything seems alright, give me a signal and I'll head home."

Rhagoh jolted awake, disoriented for a few moments, and then he turned on a small lamp and started looking for the source of the sound. David waved at him from the windows, his face only just above the ledge. As Rhagoh approached, Rush scrambled his way back down.

The windows opened inwards so David didn't have to duck. Rhagoh was so surprised he couldn't find his words, so he just let David climb inside.

"I'm worried about you," said David, scanning the room. Not that he had been here before, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. He reached backwards to close the windows, taking the opportunity to wave at Rush so that he knew everything was fine. David would find a way to repay this favour some day. "Are you all right? You're sweating all over."

"It was just a headache to start with but... I guess I must've had a fever too." Rhagoh felt his brows. They were wet. "You came all this way... oh, David."

This must seem like a very romantic gesture, coming secretly to Chandelier just to check on him. "I tried calling you, but the phone didn't work."

"Really? I'll check it in the morning. I meant to call you before going to bed, but the headache made me so tired. Sorry." Rhagoh smiled now. "But seeing you now, I already feel much better."

David couldn't help but smile back. They sat down on the side of the bed. "So you've been in bed all this time? Isn't there anyone looking after you?"

"Mum and Dad fussed about a bit, I kicked them out after a while. Their room is at the other end of the house so they shouldn't be able to hear you."

"And nobody else is in the house? There seems to be a room next door."

"It's empty. Don't worry."

So it shouldn't be a member of the family that David spoke to on the phone. But who could it be? Someone who deliberately misread — or used the original pronunciation of — his name, who warned him to end this relationship. It couldn't be because of Rhagoh, he was too kind and gentle a person to attract any animosity.

The only possibility David could come up with was far too dangerous to even consider.

"David?" Rhagoh started laughing when he was pulled into David's arms. "I'm still sweaty."

"I like you hot and sweaty." David managed to say, and even keep his smile. "Go, get back in bed. I'll stay with you until morning."

Rhagoh didn't put up a fight. He scooted to one side so that David could lie down as well.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Or probably the worst, David thought, pressing a kiss to Rhagoh's forehead.

 

David's instinct was to reach for his guns, turn around on his heels, his thumbs flicking open the fasteners on the holsters. But his eyes were faster than his trigger fingers, and so were Rush's reflexes. Even as Rush got up from his side roll, David was putting his weapons away, apologising.

"Nah, I came running up to you." Rush dusted himself off. "So are you okay? Is he okay?"

David just stood there, incredulous. He had just got back to Level 4, having left Rhagoh's before daybreak to make sure he wouldn't be caught. "You came to ask me that?"

"Figured I'll have an early start at work." Rush shrugged. "You don't look so good."

"I... Rhagoh's fine. He doesn't know anything about the phonecall."

"So you still don't know who that was," said Rush, who peered closer when David's frown only deepened. "Can you think of anyone?"

One name came to mind, but the thought alone was enough to make David feel sick. No, there must be another possibility.

"Dave?"

"No, I don't know. Maybe it was the traditionalists,," David said. But if they did start going into people's homes the term "extremists" would be more apt. "Rush, about last night, I... if you ever need me for anything, I'm yours. I mean it."

"Heh, you still ain't turning me," Rush grinned from ear to ear, and patted David on the shoulder. "You look like you need sleep. We'll chat when you can think better, yeah?"

"Okay."

 

The traditionalists must have found out about him and Rhagoh, David decided. They wanted to prevent him from trying to resettle in Chandelier, and by taking that phonecall they made sure he understood their threats were not empty. It was even possible that Rhagoh got sick because of something they had done.

The theory wasn't entirely solid — if that was the case, why was there no one waiting for him at the core lift or near Rhagoh's home? — but it was the one that made the most sense right now, and one that David could actually wrap his mind around.

Unable to go back to sleep, he was sitting on his bed thinking of ways to deal with this when Leanne knocked on his door and said they had a job to do. And then she took a better look at him.

"Are you all right?"

"Of course," he told her, hooking the chain to his keys and wallet onto a belt hoop. It was something they all did to prevent losing their personal possessions during work.

"If you aren't feeling well you don't have to go. It's not complicated, it's just faster with more people."

"I'm fine. Actually a bit of exercise might be good for me."

Just as Leanne said, it wasn't a complicated job: a handful of mobsters were trying to extort protection money from the workers at Patertopolis, not having learned from other people's past mistakes. One by one they were taken care of, adding to the deathtoll of opportunists who tried to make money out of Pater's dreams.

When the final mobster breathed his last, Vashyron went over to David. "Well, that's the end of an era."

"I'm sure there will be more. People like that will never die out."

"Sure, there will be more, but that's the last guy you're killing for a while," Vashyron laughed, watching realisation dawn on David's face. "Wishing it was someone who put up more of a fight, eh?"

"Not really. I just almost forgot about it. Thanks for the reminder." Starting the following day, David would be working for Charlotte, going to Level 10 to find out what kind of preparations he would need to make.

"You look kind of out of it," Zephyr remarked, kicking an empty can about. "Getting old?"

Distracted by what happened last night, that was something else David had forgotten: his birthday was coming up soon. It was written down in big green letters on the calendar in the main living room, just like everyone else's birthdays. Vashyron had asked him last week if there was anything he wanted for presents, and if he wanted a party. It felt like anything was an excuse for a party these days.

His birthday might be a good excuse to introduce Rhagoh to his other housemates, but David wasn't sure if he wanted to do that yet. Especially if things were about to get complicated.

"Yeah, he's out of it today." David found Vashyron's arm slung over his shoulders. "Let's get out of here and get some lunch."

 

In the evening, David reviewed the information he had received from Charlotte, trying to take his mind off last night until later. Usually Theresa would keep an eye on these things and contact him if there was anything she thought he needed to know, but he decided he would call her tonight, after she had finished work and had dinner.

For Café Charlotte — David was pretty sure the _é_ was a nod to Jean Paulet — its namesake had everything lined up and ready. A couple of men had put together a workforce and they would give David a lowdown on the monsters situation. After getting a tour of the area, it would be up to him to decide how to approach it; Charlotte didn't care how it was done as long as the workers were safe and she got her coffee cherries.

It felt like she was giving him a test of some sort, but he didn't know what she wanted him to prove.

The phone rang. He jumped out of bed, but Vashyron got to it first.

"David!"

He took the receiver from him.

"Hello?"

"David, when are you free? I have a birthday present for you."

Qubine. "You mean you are actually going to leave your experiments for long enough to come and see me personally? What a rare treat," David said, only being half sarcastic.

"If you can pencil me in. I know you're terribly busy these days."

David couldn't help but laugh. "There'll be a dinner if you don't mind the crowd. Only seven or eight people."

Qubine hesitated, as expected.

"Pater should hopefully come too, if that helps."

"I would rather not," said Qubine after a long, considered pause. "I know you're popular, but is there any chance I can get you on your own?"

"Sure. I have a job tomorrow, so how about the day after?" David suggested, and his friend made a sound of agreement. "Is something going on?"

"Apart from your birthday?"

"You seem distant. Not to me in particular, just in general."

"Do I?"

That was a denial. "We aren't neighbours anymore but I'm just a phone call away, you know that."

"Of course I do. I'm calling you right now."

David rolled his eyes. But maybe they could have a better chat about this when they meet up. And it wasn't as if he could accuse Qubine of being a stranger when he actually rang up and said he had a birthday gift ready.

"Let's talk about this later. See you the day after tomorrow?"

"See you then."

David put down the phone, and checked the time. Still too soon to call Theresa.

His hand had only just left the receiver when it rang again.

"Hello?"

"David?"

"Rhagoh? How are you? Are you feeling better?"

"A-are you busy? Can I come and see you now?"

 

Rhagoh sat on David's bed for almost an hour, unable to utter a word. He looked sick, but it seemed like he had convinced his family he was well enough to work today, and only came to David at the day's end. Now that he was here, exhausted from holding himself together, he couldn't let go enough to talk.

David didn't rush him. He knew exactly how this felt, having once sat in a dark room with Paris years ago, trying, trying, trying to speak, not knowing where or how to start, not wanting to hear the words with his own ears.

Finally, Rhagoh took a deep breath.

"When you visited me last night, you saw there was a room next to mine," he said, and David nodded. "That's my sister's room. Her name was Kate."

David noted the past tense and kept quiet.

"We were twins. People say boy-girl twins can't be identical but we looked exactly the same. We were very close. When she died a few years ago, I felt like a part of me died with her. I know this sounds crazy, I can't explain it."

 _I've heard far crazier things that all turned out to be true,_ David nearly said.

"Kate was a dominating sort of person. She wasn't mean, just quite rough around the edges, whereas I was very, very shy. She'd always looked after me. Growing up with someone like that... on the one hand I felt like I wasn't allowed to come into my own, on the other hand I felt protected by my other self. Does that even make sense?

"When she died, I couldn't handle it at first. But after a few years I've stopped thinking about her every minute of the day. And finally I felt like I've become my own person, not half of a broken unit.

"This morning, after you left, I got ready to go to work. The phone got unplugged, I thought maybe somebody tripped over the wire. And then I— I saw the door to Kate's room was open.

"I went inside and— and I saw writing on the wall, right next to the windows. It said, 'don't forget about me.' It was— it was her handwriting. She knows. Since I met you, sometimes a whole day goes by without me thinking about her. She knows and she's upset and I feel awful... and it's... it's..."

David didn't believe in ghosts, but what he believed didn't matter right now. "It's?"

Rhagoh was shaking, and David couldn't tell if moving closer would make it better or worse. When life got on top of him, David himself could not stand any physical contact. But perhaps he was a special case.

Rhagoh shook his head. He couldn't continue.

And then, "it's almost as if he can feel I'm still alive."

David stopped breathing.

Rhagoh smirked at him.

"What's wrong, _David_? You look like you've seen a ghost."


	12. Kate

[AR1140, spring]

"Well, glad to see you too."

David had never seen Qubine frown so deeply before, as if the end of the world was nigh. Actually, even then he shouldn't look so bothered.

"What's wrong?" Qubine asked.

David moved aside so that his friend could come into the house. "That's what I should be asking you. Have you got a stomach ache? You know where the bathroom is." Wow, he was starting to sound like Rush. Irrelevance level up.

"No, _you_ look like your kitten just died." Qubine shrugged off his long coat — the same one he had been wearing for at least six years — and draped it over a piece of furniture. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"Oh, I'm..." Qubine was worried about him. David's heart swelled a bit. Now he had to come up with something. "Just boyfriend trouble. But it'll be fine." He went to make some tea, betting on Qubine not making comments because it was to do with his love life.

And he was right. Qubine sat down on the sofa and kept his mouth shut. He had a paper bag, which he put down next to him.

David returned with tea. "So I was thinking..." his voice trailed off. Something was different about Qubine today, and he just noticed what it was, now that he wasn't distracted by that the-world-is-ending frown. "Your hair's down."

Qubine blinked a few times, as if confused as to why it was worth noticing. "I was in a hurry. There wasn't time to dry it after the shower." He ran his fingers through it; it was still a bit damp.

Now that David took a good look, Qubine hadn't even tucked his shirt in. It wasn't too messy since he was wearing a jumper on top, but it just seemed rather un-Qubine. "You really must've been in a hurry. Your experiments again?"

"Well, it's only me at the workshop and many things happening at the same time. It's all finished for now, so I won't need to run off. I'll begin the next stage tomorrow."

It was good to hear that Qubine actually wrapped things up so that he could come down without having to worry about his work every few minutes. And to see him literally let his hair down, well, even Jean Paulet would be jealous. "You should have your hair like that more often, it suits you," said David, and when Qubine looked puzzled, he added, hoping he didn't sound like he was hitting on him, "this whole look, it works. Trust your queer friend."

Qubine's face changed from puzzled to unconcerned. "Just now you said you were thinking...?"

"Oh, that we could eat here today, if you don't mind my cooking."

"You can cook?"

"How else do you think I live? Eat out everyday?"

"It just never crossed my mind. I was going to buy you lunch."

"I'd rather stay home, but thanks. How about fried noodles? I promise they'll taste at least okay."

Qubine laughed and told David to go ahead. David breathed a sigh of relief; after the intensity of the last two days, he really didn't feel like going out and being amongst people. Qubine's visit was perfect in timing, because he provided distraction so David wouldn't spend the whole afternoon worrying about Rhagoh.

And Kate.

David took a deep breath and told himself to forget about them for now. At the kitchen, he got to work. Everything was already prepared so it would only take him a small while to cook. "So," he raised his voice slightly so that Qubine could hear him. "I heard you have a birthday present for me."

Qubine wandered into the kitchen and watched with fascination. "It's nothing exciting, don't get your hopes up."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No expectation means no disappointment."

"I'm actually surprised that you have something for me. You aren't the gift-giving type usually."

Qubine said nothing and just watched David fry everything together in a pan, and then plate up. They sat down at a table to eat.

"It's a good thing you live in a manor with servants looking after you," said David. "If you lived on your own I can imagine you not eating."

"I'm not so coddled that I'd refuse to learn to cook."

"But you wouldn't remember to, because science is so much more interesting."

Qubine sighed, but didn't argue. He put down his fork and left the table to retrieve his bag. It was the sort that busy people or those who weren't good at wrapping would buy to put gifts in.

"Here."

Whatever it was, it was surprisingly heavy. The fact that Qubine actually bothered to get a gift bag was in itself quite a surprise, too. David reached in and pulled out a milky white object the size of a kettle. It was a sculpture of some sort, shaped like... a shard? Or a piece of remnant of some kind? There were edges and facets and curves. But, a sculpture? Since when had Qubine become Jean Paulet?

Qubine reached over and flicked a switch at the bottom. David's eyes widened as the sculpture started to glow with a soft white light that shifted, as if it was moving in thick liquid. He couldn't understand the sculpture, but he definitely liked this. When it came to toys and decorations, he would admit he was like a child — anything that lit up was amazing.

"Thank you." He set it down on the table and just watched it for a while, lunch forgotten.

"In theory it shouldn't run out of power for about two hundred years. The switch is just so that you can turn it off if the light gets annoying."

"Two hundred years?"

"A result of my research for a new type of sustainable energy. I was experimenting with black oil and some heavy metals... don't worry, it's safe. The exterior is very strong, it won't break even if it's dropped," said Qubine. "Just don't use it for target practice. And if you ever decide you don't want it, give it back to me so that I can dispose of it safely. That's very important."

David eyed his friend, not quite distrusting, just in need of a bit more reassurance. "You are sure it's safe."

"It's far safer to have this than to have hand grenades and bullets stored in your house."

Fair enough, then. "You made me something. This is unbelievable."

Qubine didn't seem to think much of it. "You cooked me lunch. To me that's far more incredible than a glowing toy."

They talked the afternoon away. Qubine offered updates on their friends and Pater's superhero comics ("his art is improving and they are somewhat readable now"), but said nothing about his work because "it's only interesting to me." David mentioned the work he had started doing for Charlotte, and the situation in Level 10. His hunter jobs. Modelling clothes designed by Rush's sister. He didn't talk about Rhagoh, because talking to Qubine about relationships felt like a risky thing to do. One day he would sit him down and explain these things called "romantic feelings" that people had, that he must also have as a human being but have managed to completely block out, but not right now.

Qubine decided it was time to go home when it started getting dark and David's housemates returned from their job.

"If you ever want to get rid of the lamp, remember to give it back to me."

"Understood, but I don't think I'm ever going to let go of it."

"And I um... hope you get things sorted with your boyfriend soon. The dead kitten face is quite worrying." Qubine shuffled on his feet a bit. It must be awkward for him to say things like that. But because of that, it was all the more endearing that he made the effort to say it.

"Oh... thanks. It'll be fine."

"See you, then."

"Bye."

 

"What did she say to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What did Kate say to you? When I passed out in your room the other night, she was there, wasn't she? And yesterday she called you on the phone, didn't she?"

"I... what are you talking about?"

"She talked to my parents today. I blacked out, and when I came around they said I'd been talking and acting like her. She's... living inside my head! What did she say to you, David?"

"Rhagoh, calm down," David clutched at phone, trying to stop himself from descending into panic. "Something like that isn't possible. And even if it was, why would she talk to me?"

"Because she is Kate! She is my twin!"

"Rhagoh..."

"Tell me!"

 _"Do you love Rhagoh,_ David _? Do you love him so much you'll ruin him, or do you love him enough to save him?"_

His chest and throat tightened. David had to force his words out. "No, I've never met her."

"Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not lying."

"She told our parents she'd talked to you!" Rhagoh waited for a reaction, but David didn't know what to say. "She told them not to trust you, she said there's something wrong about you, she said you'll hurt me eventually..." he choked. "Why would she say things like that..."

"I... I don't know. Rhagoh, can we meet up? I can't bear hearing you this way."

"No I... I know she'd said something nasty to you. If I see you, I don't know what she might do. And you won't tell me afterwards. I can't deal with that. If you can't be honest with me, then... I... I... what's a relationship if we can't be open and honest... and trust each other?"

David felt like doubling over and shrinking away. "Whatever happens, I can handle it. Don't try to take this on alone, please."

"No. No. I can tell she's already hurt you. I can't let her do it again. We shouldn't even be talking; what if... David, I'm going to hang up now. I'm going to see the priest, and the doctor... when I get better, the first thing I'll do is see you. If Kate tries anything, please ignore her. She just misses being with me. She's protective. But nothing she says is true."

"Rhagoh, please don't—"

"I love you."

Rhagoh hung up.

_She told them not to trust you, she said there's something wrong about you, she said you'll hurt me eventually..._

"Dammit!"

 

Café Charlotte was practically ready for business. Jean Paulet, unexpectedly allowed to step inside before the grand opening, should be ecstatic, but his focus of attention was not the cafe right now.

"You look like your kitten just died. What's going on?"

Jean Paulet just said exactly what Qubine had said earlier in the day. David would have laughed if he was in the mood.

"I need your opinion on something. From a cardinal's point of view."

"Oh? Is a lost sheep finding his way back?"

Charlotte came by, putting down two cups of coffee. She had been at the cafe all day overseeing the final works and testing different coffee blends, and she graciously allowed David to use this space to meet up with her brother.

David didn't answer his friend's questions. "Do you believe in ghosts? Do you think spiritual possessions are possible? Or is that all just madness?"

Jean Paulet sipped his coffee, then set it down elegantly. "You're not going to tell me the reason behind your query?"

"No, sorry. Just do your cardinal thing."

Jean Paulet sighed. "There is a lot of madness in the world. The Scriptures tell us that the world is imbalanced, and this causes evil in both the body and the mind."

"So it's all just insanity?"

"I don't think madness is necessarily evil." Jean Paulet could tell he was making David confused. "It shows us what we are missing, or what we have done wrong. It is a hint. A symptom, if you will, of the ills of the world. It is a possession of the mind. And sometimes it can be beautiful; the most celebrated artists were almost always pronounced insane. Qubine is also embraced by madness, we both know that. It may be the price he has to pay for his genius. Perhaps in his eyes, we are the ones who are mad and possessed by mundanity."

Madness was possession, but it wasn't always evil. And it was a matter of perspective. David could accept that.

"As for exactly how possessions happen, I am a man of God, so to me there is only one answer."

"An act of God."

"Does that answer your question?"

"Yes. You can stop doing your cardinal thing now."

An act of God. Yes, David thought so too.

"Are you finally returning to God's bosom?"

David snorted and patted Jean Paulet on the head.

Jean Paulet sighed again, but didn't push. He had said before — in private, because otherwise the other cardinals might have a fit — that he didn't believe in forcing faith upon other people. If this was not the case, David didn't think they could ever be friends.

"Speaking of that godless heathen, have you spoken to Qubine lately?"

"I saw him today," David told his friend, and added when Jean Paulet seemed surprised, "he came to give me a birthday present."

"He did?"

"I told him to come for my birthday dinner, but you know how he is with crowds."

Jean Paulet sipped on his coffee again. Still finding it too hot, he blew on it gently, a thoughtful look on his face. David tilted his head inquisitively.

"Is there a problem?"

Jean Paulet pressed his lips into a thin line as he considered how to phrase his words. "Did he seem... different to you?"

"Well, he looked a bit unkempt but other than that, no?"

"The man is gaunt! Were you even looking?"

David tried to think back. Qubine was wearing a jumper over his untucked shirt, and his hair obscured parts of his face and neck, there really wasn't much David could go on.

"He keeps hiding it, and nobody believes me!" Jean Paulet moved his seat back so that he could wave his arms without knocking the table over. "He's been losing weight since last winter. He said nothing's happening but I'm telling you, I've poked him in the ribs and there is no flesh on them! I told him to leave those test tubes and go see a doctor, and of course he tells me I'm imagining things and _I_ should see a doctor."

"Calm down. I believe you." David pointed at the coffee, gesturing for Jean Paulet to drink up. "Now I feel like I'm a terrible friend for not noticing. Did you say since winter?"

"Around when he went crazy with those experiments. He sees people less and less now. I— I don't know if he's going insane. He _is_ a genius and that's how they—"

"I think you're going a bit too far now..." said David, but even as the words left his mouth, he wondered if what they had been worrying about in the back of their heads all these years was finally coming true.

"Listen, mon ami. Just before you called, I was at the shooting range for a bit of after-dinner practice, as you do," Jean Paulet said, and David nodded; everyone in Basel who had the chance would learn to use the gun and make sure they didn't lose the skill. "And I bumped into our dear friend. He's a very good marksman, I hadn't realised. Later on I got your call and came here, but just before leaving, the staff at the range told me Qubine has been going there everyday for the past month."

Jean Paulet stopped, and they drank their coffee. It was fragrant and smooth, but the friends were not in the mood to appreciate it.

"Have they told anyone yet?" Even David, with his work, didn't reach for the gun everyday.

"No. But if this carries on and they think there's a problem, they will have to report it and he will be put on watch. That's why they told me first."

David nodded again; he remembered the procedures. The shooting range in Chandelier was where Rush first taught him how to properly handle a gun, after all.

"Maybe it's a new interest. When he gets into something he tends to get obsessed." David caught Jean Paulet's hands and squeezed them. They were shaking; Jean Paulet was not being dramatic, he was genuinely worried. "I'll talk to him. Don't worry."

Madness was a possession of the mind that David was familiar with. If there really was a problem, perhaps there was something he could do.

"I wish he would talk to me. If there's a problem, I'll do anything I can... before it takes hold of him..."

"You love him very much. I'm sure he knows that."

 

David went home with one question answered, but many more new questions to tackle, and a guilty conscience. He had become so absorbed in his own problems he hadn't noticed his friends were troubled.

They had only just met this afternoon, it would make Qubine feel hounded if David called now, so even though the idea tormented him, he had to wait until later. There was something else he could do in the meanwhile, though. Something that could help Rhagoh.

He reached for the mini-safe which, coincidentally, he had asked Qubine to make for him a long time ago. David had only ever read its contents once. He steeled himself, then unlocked the box.

It was "an act of God", so he would have to do something about this "god".


	13. Dave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David is reviewing the past, which makes this a good time to talk about what happened all those years ago. Let's rewind the tape for about 7-8 years.

[AR1132, winter]

The guy had guts to come unarmed, Rush'd give him that.

He kept his gun in the holster, partly because he didn't want to point a weapon at someone who was barehanded, and partly because he didn't want to leave bullet holes in the wall — he was a good shooter but man, the guy was _fast_.

He also jumped higher that Rush had seen anyone jump. Gravity seemed to mean nothing to him. From the flower bed, he bounced almost all the way to the glass dome above, kicking off a wall to come down, head first as if diving into water, without any fear that he might crack his skull open upon landing. Not sure if that or the guy's screams was more unsettling, Rush dodged, watching him land on his hands, roll onto his elbows, then shoulder, and then back to break the fall. In the blink of an eye he was standing again, shoulders down and knees bent, ready to attack once more.

Two words came to Rush's head: black oil. This man must be mad from contamination, which also allowed him to do these superhuman feats. The look in those eyes said it all — there was nothing in them except for madness and—

His eyes were on the holster under Rush's arm.

Mad, but not stupid. The best way to not have his weapon snatched was to use it first, and use it well. Pulling it out in one smooth motion, Rush sighed. "If that's what you want." Maybe killing him would be doing him a favour. Rush just hadn't thought this would be his first job after coming back from holiday.

"What are you two doing?"

Paris? Crap! "Don't come in!" Rush shouted, not turning around to address his employer and friend. He would say more but the guy was dashing towards him. The need for safety now paramount, he raised his gun, only to hear his friend shout:

"Don't!"

Hesitating at the crucial moment, the mad man crashed into Rush, sending them both flying. "Shit!" Rush cursed, the back of his head making contact with the floor, the pain paralysing him briefly. At that moment, the man on top of him took the gun from his hand, and pulled the trigger.

After cocking the barrel under his own chin.

Through the white hot pain, Rush watched him, the determination in his eyes, the desperation for death. The gun wouldn't work — Rush flicked the safety back on when they crashed — and as the man tried the trigger again and again, the frustrated growl in the back of his throat became louder. Trying to lift his head, Rush groaned, the pain making the edges of his vision glow bright white. Gathering himself, he planned to knock the man off him and get his weapon back, but the cold metal was pressed back into his hands before he could even start.

The man didn't say a word, but he was pleading.

"No!" Paris was running over, trying to get to them before it was too late. Shit was getting complicated. An intruder who turned out to be someone mad from black oil, still retaining enough consciousness to know it was better to die, and yet was someone his friend knew? This was too complicated for a quick decision.

"Sorry," said Rush, striking the guy's head hard with the butt of his hand gun, not because it was going to hurt like hell later — his own head still felt like it'd been split open so this was only pay back — but because he couldn't give him the end he wanted. But there were other ways, methods that were more dignified, less painful and involved less blood.

Paris reached them just as the guy's eyes rolled back into his head and his body fell sideways, and caught him before his shoulder hit the ground.

"David!"

 

Despite appearances, Paris was tough. And, some might say, too kind for his own good. The household staff definitely thought that way, seeing how he welcomed this half brother that suddenly showed up, a bastard who was two years his senior and therefore a serious threat to his claim on Cardinalship. Paris was a good guy and the staff were loyal, so Rush could see why they saw the bastard as a threat. But to Rush, Paris was just being himself; if he didn't welcome his brother with open arms then he wouldn't be the Paris people knew, really.

If this half brother turned out to be contaminated, though...

They put him in a bed, and Paris was in the room alone with him, insisting that Rush stayed outside. Some time later, he reappeared from the room and practically dragged himself to Rush with heavy feet.

"How's he?" Rush asked from where he sat on a sofa.

"Concussed. But calm, just not quite able to make coherent conversation. He's getting some sleep now."

"Sorry man, but I didn't know what else to do. He was trying to-"

"I know. I saw." Paris pulled out a seat from under a table, and sat down. "I know what you're thinking, but it's not black oil."

"What?"

"I've checked his fingernails and his scalp. No signs of black oil at all. But that wasn't the David I know. That just wasn't him."

"Either way, if he's bonkers—"

"He's not." Even Paris knew how weak the denial sounded. He shook his head meekly. "Rush, please don't tell—"

"Have I ever told people anything you don't want them to know?"

A chuckle. "Thank you."

Rush shifted on the sofa, turning so that he could face Paris. Speaking of keeping secrets, "oh yeah, how was your date?"

"I couldn't go. Something big happened down at a seminary. The cardinals got summoned, so I had to look after what Father was meant to be working on today."

"That sucks. What happened?"

"I don't know, but I heard that a lot of people died. Cardinal Lagerfeld is taking care of it now."

Silence. Rush was no stranger to death, but it was never a trivial matter.

After a while, Paris bowed his head. "What should I do with David now?"

This Rush knew the answer to. "Leave him in there. We take away anything that might be dangerous, then wait for him to come around, and talk to him."

Paris sighed. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Don't mention it."

 

There was a bin right next to the bed. David tried to empty his stomach into it, but came up with nothing except acid because he had not yet eaten anything today and judging by the darkness of the room, it was already night time.

Sitting up was making his head spin, and there was a pounding pain behind his ears, but he wasn't the type to let these things hinder him. Gingerly he got up and prodded towards the only source of light, a lamp on the desk at the near wall. Beside it was a piece of paper and some pills, as well as some water in a metal tumbler. It took a minute for David's eyes to focus enough to read the note.

> David,
> 
> I will be back soon. The medicine should help with your headache, and I will do everything I can to help you, whatever the problem may be. Please wait for me here.
> 
> Your brother, Paris

It was only after he finished reading that the events from earlier in the day came back to him, in images and sounds and emotions that were foreign to him, yet disturbingly familiar.

Just like his own existence. Part of himself was now alien. There was no separate entity, no conflicting feelings, just the knowledge — an instinct — that told him this new part was what was natural, what was _real_. Everything else — the rest of himself, the people living in Basel, the God they worshipped, the grinding gears that sustained life, everything was false, engineered. This was not how humans were supposed to live, and therefore it must all be destroyed.

David felt like he was going to be sick again. It couldn't be true. And even if it was, he must not listen to it.

"David?" A series of quiet knocks at the door. "I'm coming in."

His head still pounding and his heart suddenly racing, David backed away. The last thing he wanted was to see anyone right now, least of all his brother.

After the sound of a key turning the lock, Paris entered the room. He started, noticing that the bed was empty, before seeing David near the desk, and smiled. "You're finally up. I had to go and tell the staff we're taking dinner late." He shut the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

David took another step back, then gathered his resolution and stopped himself from moving further away. "Did I hurt anyone?" His voice was hoarse. He took the water from the desk, and the pills too, swallowing them hard.

The question made Paris smile. "No. Rush bumped his head, but that's his problem."

"Rush is..."

"He's on Safety and Security. He was on holiday when you arrived, so you two weren't introduced."

A face came to mind. Short dark hair, green eyes. The one with the gun who refused to kill him.

"That wasn't the best sort of meeting we could've had."

"I guess not. But Rush is a good friend who keeps secrets, so—"

"It wasn't how I wanted you to see me, either."

Paris fell silent for a moment. He turned around, put the key in the door and locked it, leaving the key where it was afterwards. Then he stepped further into the room, staring at his feet for a few moments before looking at David again.

"You told me on the day you arrived that you didn't want luxury, prestige or power, all you wanted was to be away from your previous life below. You came across to me as someone who was fighting a private battle. And I thought, if David wants to leave the past behind him, that's not a problem at all. It's a good thing."

David said nothing.

"But if something from the past would not let go, and threatens the wellbeing of my family, then that is a problem," Paris continued. "We've only known each other for a week and I know it's hard for you to see me as family or friend, but please let me help you. In fact, I insist that you do."

"Paris."

"I'm sorry, I talk too much—"

David's chuckle was forced. "I don't think you can help me, but I do owe you an explanation." He looked away. "Do you mind if I switch this light off? It will be easier for me to talk if I know you can't see me."

 

"Rush, I know this is a lot to ask, but I really need your help."

Rush had never seen Paris like this before, even after knowing him for many years. Withdrawn, depressed, angry — no, absolutely outraged. His fists were clenched, every part of him seemed to be taut. For a brief moment Rush wondered if Paris had been infected by whatever his half brother had, but of course that wasn't possible.

"Is he okay?" He asked tentatively.

"Now, yes. He will talk to you later and you will find he is the most calm, kind and intelligent person you've ever met. But," Paris looked away, "something had happened to him in the past, and it changed him. The worst might be over but he isn't sure. If you can, Rush, please watch out for him. In case he tries to hurt himself again... or anyone else."

It sounded like heavy stuff. Rush felt a twinge of sympathy, but what could he do? "He moves like someone with black oil. I can't guarantee I can control him. And I can't follow him all day long, you know."

"Yes, I know."

"But I'll do what I can. As long as he helps me help him."

"He will." Paris sighed. "In his words, he wants to have a new life, or he will die trying."

The faint sound of turning hinges caught their attention. At the other end of the corridor, David stood, not as worse for wear as Rush imagined he would look. And then he realised it was because of the way the guy held himself, back straight and shoulders pulled back, using body language to convince people he was fine.

"So what are you going to do now?" asked Rush under his breath. David was approaching them, but slowly. He couldn't be feeling too well right this moment.

"Right now? Have dinner and pretend nothing has happened. The same as my brother had been trying to do for months." Paris was clenching his fists again. "And then I have work to do. From what he can remember and the rumours I'd heard in the past, I know pretty well where to start. I'll make them pay for this."

"Hey, Paris."

"Please don't try to stop me."

"You know what kind of guy I am. I'm not gonna stop you. Just be careful, right, and let me know if I can help."

"Of course. Thank you."

They looked over to David, who was waiting a polite distance away, just out of earshot. He went over to them. Rush held out his hand.

"Let's try this again. The name's Rush. I work on safety and security."

"I'm David." They shook hands. "How is your head?"

"Got a massive bump right here." Rush's finger drew a circle just over the back of his head. "Sleeping tonight's gonna be ace. Yours?"

"To be honest, I'm still feeling unsteady."

"Cool, I guess we're even."

David smiled.

Paris spoke at this point. "I'm going to the dining room," he told David, "come and join me soon."

David nodded and watched his brother go. When they were alone, Rush heaved a sigh, his shoulders sagging.

"I've never seen him so mad before."

"Do you see him a friend, Rush?" David asked.

"Sure. Why?"

"I don't want him to get involved in this. This is my battle, no one else needs to get hurt."

"You don't know Paris yet. He might still be a kid but it's also his fight now, whether you like it or not."

"You may be right," David conceded. "But still, if you can stop him, please do."

Rush raised an eyebrow. Funny, these two only shared the same father and met a week ago, but they really seemed similar.

"Well, my new job, according to him, is to stop _you_."

David's smile looked strained.

"I used to be a hunter," Rush went on, "killed people for a living. Now I work here and try to save lives. If you want to live, I can help you. If you don't, there ain't much I can do. I mean, we can strap you to a bed and just feed you, but that's just a slower and more horrible way to die, right?"

Staring at Rush, David digested the frank words, then he dipped his head.

"You've seen me at my worst. I hope I can show you my best."

Paris was right, Rush liked this guy already. "You know, if you want a new life, you could start by picking a new name or getting a nickname. How about... Dave?"

David smiled, wry.

"I can get used to that."


	14. Brothers and Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in once-upon-a-time land.

[AR1132, winter]

The whole thing wasn't even a public secret — even the servants weren't whispering about it, according to Rush, the one who knew all the gossip. It was acknowledged, but rarely discussed. And when people did talk about it at all, it was about the generosity of Paris's mother, what a tolerant woman she was to let the bastard live under her roof.

And they were right. His mother was the kindest person Paris ever knew. They were a family of sensible people. It wasn't that his father cheated on her; when he was with the woman from Cranktown years ago, he hadn't even met Paris's mother yet. But when during a visit to a seminary he saw David, he knew from this boy's face that he was her child and everything that came up in the background check also confirmed the boy was his child.

It was, even to Paris who was worried about his mother's feelings, right to offer David a better life. When he finally met this half brother, he was even glad, because David seemed like such a wonderful person who had been through too much and needed a hand. As for his mother, Paris didn't know what David said to her, but after their private meeting she accepted his existence. At home they didn't talk to each other often, but when they did their words were polite. Not warm, but also not too cold.

Thanks to his family's good reputation and his mother's dignified approach, what could have been a big scandal became something people talked about with respect: what a brave woman; the cardinal could have turned a blind eye but he accepted responsibility; this is a family that lead by example...

But that was about Paris's family, or the part that people knew about. Paris was well aware that for now, they were withholding judgement on the bastard. He couldn't tell if the way David made himself scarce made things better or worse, perhaps a bit of both. After _that_ happened, though, he understood there was more than one reason for David to not want to be the centre of attention.

 _That_ was more than a month ago. Since then, there had been a few rough days, none as bad as the first time. He was getting better. Or in David's own words, he was gaining control — the monster had not vanished, nor had it been tamed, but it had been leashed, he hoped.

Happy with the progress, and now that the novelty of David's presence had worn off in people's minds, Paris asked him if he wanted to enroll into college. After days of hesitation, David said yes, he did.

So the formal, public acknowledgement that David was a member of the family was in the form of his first day of class at the college where the cardinals' children were educated.

"'David'? Hmm."

Paris stood in the corner of the room, holding one hand in another to stop himself from fidgeting as his classmates huddled together and scrutinised the profile of the newcomer. He didn't think he would get this nervous, but even Charlotte had never met him and what if they—

"He'll be fine," a soft voice said. Charlotte nudged Paris gently, amused by his anxiety. "You know what they're like, they poke fun sometimes but they aren't nasty people."

Paris nodded. Of course he knew that. He wanted to ask them to be extra nice to David because he had had a hard life and coming to a new environment would be difficult for him but David said he didn't want to be labelled by his past and he especially didn't want a pity party so—

"Paris. He will be fine." Charlotte nudged him again and repeated.

"Yes. Of course."

David wasn't there yet, he had some forms to fill in first. His desk was ready though, with a few books prepared for him, neatly labelled by Cardinal Veronique who liked to do this sort of thing. This was, in truth, hardly a college or even a class. There were only a few of them and some of them were three years apart in age, but they were all there was. There were few cardinals, and they had few children.

"Not _Day-vid_ , you fool. It's _Dah-veed_."

"Not everyone pronounces their name in an idiotic way like you, _Jean Paul-let_."

"Please stop parading your ignorance, _Qu-bean_. It's embarrassing." Jean Paulet touched his forehead with the back of his hand, his dramatic flair making even the nervous Paris smile. Bless them, they were shifting the attention from the big issue of who David was to something as minor as how his name should be read. "I would say that the loser buys lunch for the winner, but that would be gambling. How about the one who gets his name wrong buys lunch for him as an apology?"

"Sounds fair," replied Qubine.

Even though Paris was wary of Qubine — perhaps unfairly so — he knew, at that point, that David was going to be fine. Charlotte probably had a hand in this since the banter sounded a bit scripted, and if anyone could get Jean Paulet and Qubine to play along to something, it was Charlotte. Paris wanted to squeeze her hand, but that would have to be left for later.

David soon arrived with Pater, who saw him downstairs, excitedly proclaimed "you're the new guy!" and took it upon himself to show David the way. At the door he paused for half a second, then stepped through with a confidence that made Paris feel proud. Everyone started introducing themselves without being prompted.

"Jean Paulet, at your service!" Lacking the space to bow properly, Jean Paulet dipped his head before looking up at the newcomer who, probably to his annoyance, was taller than him like almost everyone else. "You are _Dah-veed_ , n'est-ce pas?"

David hardly missed a beat. Those gears in his head turned very fast. "Yes. So glad to finally meet someone who knows how to say my name!"

Paris's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.

"Really? Is that how it's pronounced?" Qubine asked. Jean Paulet actually looked surprised that he was right.

"Hippie parents," explained David with a shrug.

With a soft sigh, Qubine held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, David," he said, repeating the now-official pronunciation. "I am Qubine, and I will be buying you lunch today."

After the situation was explained and people started to settle down, Paris made his way to his half brother.

"Hippie parents?"

"Well." David lowered his voice. "Rush said before that if I am to start a new life, I might want to pick a new name. _Dah-veed_ doesn't sound too bad."

"But I've been calling you _Day-vid_ for weeks, you can't just change like that, I'll get your name wrong in front of everyone!"

"You won't. Don't worry about it." David smiled, patted Paris's arm and then sat down at his desk.

Paris was glad that David was so confident, he just prayed that confidence wasn't misplaced.

 

Whilst David struggled with his study — he wasn't dumb by any means, but what he learned in school before was of a different focus and the quality of teaching wasn't great — he was very good at making friends. Within weeks, he, Qubine and Jean Paulet were practically inseparable, the time they spent together putting Paris's relationship with Charlotte to shame. Then again, Paris and Charlotte had to arrange their dates carefully, since Charlotte's mother was convinced that no man would be good enough for her daughter and therefore she should not be seeing anyone at all.

It did worry Paris, though, seeing how close David and Qubine had become. The more Paris investigated on the incidents that nearly ruined David's life, the more evidence there was that pointed towards Qubine's mother, the cardinal in charge of Cranktown. Paris prayed that Qubine was unaware of any of this. But even if he was, there was no way this could end well, because Paris was determined to seek justice for David.

And then, one day after college, Qubine asked Paris if they could meet up at night.

"He said to go alone, or bring someone I unreservedly trust."

"Sounds ominous," said Rush. "You're gonna go, right?"

"I have to. Come with me."

"Sure."

When they arrived at Cafe Chelsey on Level 4, Qubine was alone. He was still dressed in what he wore to college earlier in the day, but instead of books, he just had a big envelope. In the open air, abandoned cafe, he looked vulnerable but determined. Standing near one of the few remaining tables, he stared down at his own shoes for a moment, as if trying to decide how to proceed, and then he held out the envelope.

"Here."

The envelope contained documents on the experiments a man named Sullivan performed on the children at Crank Seminary, before that terrible tragedy.

"These are copies. I can't take the actual documents without being noticed."

Paris's mind went blank as he flicked through the pages, David's profile, along with numerous others', flashed before his eyes. What? How? _Why?_

"I know you are investigating. So am I. But I am in a much better position to do this without raising suspicion."

This meant what Paris had long suspected was true: Qubine's mother, the cardinal in charge of Cranktown, was involved in this. But Qubine was investigating his own mother? Could Paris trust him, or was this a trap? "So you're telling me to stop?"

"If I can work out you are looking into this, then so can they. I will pass every scrap of information on to you. This way is easier and safer for both of us." Qubine's eyes were dark, emotionless. When Paris thought about it, something had changed about Qubine in the past year. He seemed to have become jaded, and even though he was the oldest of their class, he was still just nineteen, not an age that should be associated with the word "jaded". But since finding David's friendship he looked a bit happier again.

"And then what? This doesn't mean anything if nothing's done about it!"

"I know." Qubine looked away. "But this is all I can give you right now. It's... enough for judgement to be passed, but there is more to it than this. There are keywords in those documents that don't mean anything right now. There is one more place to look into and I think I've found the man to help me."

Rush stepped forward at this point. "Hey, you can't expect us to trust you if you tell us just the barebones."

It made sense, but the reluctance was evident in Qubine's body language.

"Qubine—"

"Sullivan and... the cardinal don't do all this on their own. There is a handful of scientists who have worked on this at Aetersyl. I've researched them, I don't think they will talk. But there are other people who also work there, and there is one man who might be able to get me the rest of the story."

"And his name is?" Paris stepped forward also, no longer worried about himself. "If you suddenly disappear one day, who do I send the hunters to?"

Apparently he wasn't just not worried about himself, he didn't even sound like himself now. Maybe this was what growing up was: learning the dark truths and using the same dirty methods adults used that he disapproved of.

Qubine managed a small smile. "Juris."

Not a man Paris had heard of, but the work at Aetersyl were always highly confidential, to the extent that the identities of most of the staff were unknown.

"We need a minute," suddenly Rush said.

Qubine nodded, and Rush pulled Paris to one side.

"I know who Juris is. He's mates with my dad," Rush whispered under his breath. "You heard about Albona and how there were two guys who prophesied the downfall? That's Sullivan and Juris. Juris convinced my dad to move away from Albona before the place went to hell, and basically saved my family."

Paris digested this. "So he's a good man?"

"I don't know. My dad said Juris changed a lot since moving up to Chandelier working on stuff he can't talk about. Became a really unhappy guy," said Rush. "He used to swing by every so often, but not so much in the last few years. Still drops by every Christmas though. He seems nice, but I don't know if he's a _good_ guy or not."

But at least the facts added up. A scientist who knew and worked with Sullivan.

"What're you thinking?"

Brows knotted, Paris pressed his knuckles against his mouth. "Would I be very stupid to trust Qubine?"

"My wits ain't my strong point, you know. But..." Rush glanced back at the young man waiting for them, "I don't think you've got much choice. I'd play along, at least."

"Hmm." Paris had known Qubine for years. They weren't very close and Qubine was the kind of person who kept a lot to himself, but he didn't think Qubine was evil. He just didn't want to gamble David's and his own safety on this gut feeling.

He went back to Qubine.

"What are you intentions on my brother?"

"I don't have any."

"When all the information comes to light, what do you plan to do?"

"I don't know yet."

"If you expose this scandal, that's the quickest way for you to gain power."

"I don't think words can convince you that a fast track to cardinalship is not my motive, so I won't try."

"I can't just sit and wait for things to happen. I need to find the truth and get justice for him. That's my job as his brother."

Qubine's face changed briefly, his expression softening, before turning a bit smug. "No, that is what I can do." There was a slight pause as he looked for his words. "There are things that only you can do, as his brother. It's a steep learning curve, but you'll pick it up."

Despite the situation, Paris couldn't help but smile.

When he received no more questions, Qubine checked the time. "I need to head to my piano lesson. If the current circumstances are now clear to you — as clear as they can be at this point — then I'm going to go."

Paris and Rush exchanged a look. What more could they say? They were holding documents that could implicate Qubine's mother, maybe even his whole family, but Qubine was the one who had any control over what happened next. They watched him go, nearing the exit of the old cafe, before a final question came to Paris.

"One more thing, Qubine."

"What?"

 

When Paris got home his mother gave him The Look, but then sighed and didn't say anything. She didn't really like it if he went out at night, but he wasn't a child anymore. Well, not much of one anyway. It was true that he was the youngest one out of all his classmates, even Pater was older than him by a few months, but he was grown up enough, not to mention the tallest.

After ducking out of his mother's disapproving stare, he went straight to David's room, but it was only after David said "come in" that he realised he didn't know what to say.

David was studying at his desk, still trying to catch up with college months after starting.

"I feel bad whenever I see you work so hard."

David just laughed at him. "It's not as if I have much else to do."

Ah. True, David's entire social circle consisted only of the people from college, and he hardly ever went out otherwise. Paris didn't know if his brother wanted to be invisible or thought he had to be, but either way he felt bad about it.

"Madam was looking for you."

"I know." Paris fumbled around for words for a while, and then decided to do exactly what Qubine did earlier, and gave David the envelope directly. "Here."

David's face blanched when he pulled out the stack of papers and realised what they were.

"I only had a flick through," Paris explained. "Not sure if you would rather I don't read it too closely."

"Please leave me alone for a while."

 

_"Why are you looking into this, and does David know?"_

_"I was trying to find out if the cardinal is having an illicit relationship with Sullivan, and got more than I bargained for. Now I can't simply pretend this has not happened. But your brother doesn't know."_

_"But you've known about David all along."_

_"No, not until I stole the profiles of the victims from my— the cardinal's office last week. It was... a shock, to say the least."_

_"So if I was to tell him that you..."_

_"I would rather you don't, but I can't stop you."_

His door opened. David didn't bother to knock, but he did shut the door behind him and locked it.

"Are you all right?" Paris asked, hating how perfunctory he sounded.

Even now, David managed to make fun of himself. "Threw up my dinner, but otherwise I feel great." He moved away from the door, and kept his voice low. "It helped me recall the details. I don't know if that's a good thing, but time will tell."

Paris nodded.

"I can remember how they did it to me, but I still don't understand what it was they actually did." David looked down at his hands before resolutely lowering them again. "I need to know what I've been made into."

They stared at each other, and then David gasped. "I don't mean to put pressure on you. I never even wanted you to get involved but you still... how did you get the information anyway?"

For David to truly have a new life, he needed as few people to know about his past as possible. Even if they only pretended not to know.

"I have my ways," Paris said, "and I won't tell you. You can focus on becoming a Chandelien, I'll do the rest."

"This is dangerous, Paris."

Hardly, Paris thought. "I am personally in no danger whatsoever." This was far too big for him to claim credit, and even if he, not Qubine, did all this, he wouldn't want David to worry. "And you need to start getting used to having a brother who wouldn't leave you alone."

David looked surprised, and unsure how to react. He ran a hand through his hair, holding his fringe back, as if trying to clear his head. "I guess," he admitted, and not unwillingly. "But as the older one, aren't I supposed to be looking after you?"

"Next time I go out after dark, you can come with me to make sure I behave myself."

A chuckle. "Of course."

"Hey, since you've in effect eaten nothing tonight, are you hungry? Because I'm going to go and look for something to eat."

"I suppose a snack won't hurt." David got the envelope, which he had under his arm the whole time, and gave it to Paris. "Do you have somewhere secure to put this?"

Paris nodded, and took it to his wall safe.

"I don't mind that you read it," David said behind him, "but..."

"You think I might regret it afterwards?"

"Maybe."

The documents safely locked away, Paris pushed David towards the door. "I'll read it, but not right now. To the kitchen. Let's go."

"Okay, okay."

Paris needed to know what David went through if he was to help him, but he could leave that for a bit later. Right now, he was going to be fun, annoying, insufferable, meddling, distracting, loving. A standard sibling. Because that was something only he could do.


	15. No Such Thing as Karma

[AR1133, early spring]

Cardinal Veronique always had an air of tranquility about her. Not everyone thought the same — David said it was more of a sweet melancholy, and Charlotte said it was a deep longing — but they did all agree it made her attractive, and made people want to protect her. For this reason, whenever she got upset teaching the class, be it because someone wasn't paying attention or forgot to do their homework, that person would become the target of spite until they sorted themselves out.

Not this time, though, even though Veronique's face was marred by a concerned frown.

"Still? Has he seen a doctor?"

"He said it's just a bad cold and he needs to sleep it off," said Pater, looking even more worried than his teacher. Qubine had never missed class before. They only had college twice a week, and this was the third time he hadn't come in, so he had been sick for over a week already. Being perhaps the least lazy person of the group who sneered at anyone who chose to stay home because of a few sniffles, he wouldn't miss college unless he was seriously ill.

After class, they gathered around Pater and tried to find out more, but Pater was just as clueless as everyone else.

"Shall we go and pay him a visit, to make sure he isn't dying?" Jean Paulet suggested, meeting eyes with everyone. It seemed like no one disliked the idea, until David opted out.

"Father wants me to be home straight after class today. I don't know what it is about, but I think I better be there."

Really? It took Paris a few seconds to realise David was lying. Of course he wouldn't want to set foot in the house where the cardinal in charge of Cranktown lived; even if he didn't try to kill her on sight, what if she recognised him?

Speaking of which, it was perhaps time to catch up with Qubine. What if he was sick because of... oh God. The cardinal wouldn't do that to her own children, would she?

"I don't think it'd be good for all of us to go. He's sick and we're a big crowd." said Paris, carefully not looking at his brother. "How about we take turns? I'll go today."

Jean Paulet put a hand on Paris's shoulder. "So young, yet so sensible. Your future is bright." He sighed contentedly, saying that he agreed with Paris and he would go tomorrow instead.

When Paris arrived at Qubine's place later that day, Qubine met him at the hall. He suggested to go for a walk in the garden because he had cooped up indoors for too long and needed some air.

The garden of the manor consisted of carefully trimmed hedges, grass and trees. "They're talking about cultivating flowers," said Qubine, dismissive, when Paris noticed a half-built greenhouse.

Flowers. That was some ambition. Then again, they were bold enough to even experiment on humans. Flowers were probably just a novelty to them.

They got to a bench and sat down. It wasn't too late yet, but the light was waning fast. Paris missed the long summer days. The previous summer was before David arrived and it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I'm the class representative today. Everyone is worried about you."

"I see." From somewhere under the long coat that he was almost always seen wearing these days, Qubine produced a large envelope, one that looked just like another he had given him before. "This is from Juris. I got it from him last week."

Paris held his breath. He started reaching for the envelope, and then realised Qubine wasn't handing it to him.

"If this can tell David what has been done to him, then he needs to read it."

"This is about more than that," said Qubine, although he did let go. "Maybe it will help him. Maybe he is the only one who should know the whole story. Maybe nobody should know."

"What do you mean?"

"Give it to him. He deserves to know. Yes, in fact I think it will help him. But this is not for the rest of us. You shouldn't read it."

"Is this why you've been ill? Because of this?"

"It's..." Qubine looked skywards, and took a deep breath. It was clear he had been thinking about this for a long time. "...the kind of thing you wish you hadn't learned, hadn't seen. Like finding out your mother has none of the ethics or morals a human being should have. Like going to a memorial service for the victims of the Crank Seminary disaster with her, knowing not only that she caused all those deaths, but she made every single person suffer and suffer and suffer before they were killed. But what's in here is worse. Much worse. I wish I'd never read it; I'd rather be ignorant."

Suddenly Paris could feel the weight of the document in his hands. This was Qubine. Cynical, intelligent, logical, capable, who kept looking for the truth even when it got too horrific and personal. But he would rather he never knew this.

"The contents of that cannot be made public." Qubine's gaze shifted from the stars to Paris. "Besides, a trial would expose David's past to everyone attention."

Paris's throat knotted up, and blood drained from his face. The form of justice he had in mind was not that, and Qubine probably knew it. But he couldn't say it out loud. What about the consequences? The cardinal was still Qubine and Pater's mother, no matter what she had done. And if he was caught, people would dig into this and find out about David. And would God ever forgive him?

Paris hated himself. At the start, he was determined to do whatever it took. Now he was chickening out and failing his brother and all those who suffered at the seminary.

Qubine breathed out deeply, and stood.

"Qubine?"

"Take that back to your brother. He is tough, he will cope better than I have. Maybe it'll even help him make sense of it all. But keep an eye on him. That is your role."

That was what Paris was in the best position to do. He nodded, pushed the document under his coat and stood as well.

"As for the rest, it is my job as her son to clean up this mess. I will find an answer."

Paris didn't know if there really could be an answer.

Or perhaps there were just things he refused to imagine.

 

For the first time since he moved to Chandelier, David asked for money. And when he received some, he bought a safe, into which Juris's documents went. He did not want Paris to even have a chance to glimpse its contents.

"I'm sorry. This is for your sake. I'm sorry."

Seeing the way David trembled even hours afterwards, Paris felt powerless and upset. He was old enough to know the secret! How was he supposed to play his role if he wasn't allowed to understand the problem? Now he was the one being protected. This wasn't how it was supposed to go!

He stormed off. He felt bad even before he'd reached his bedroom, but he couldn't turn back.

A little while later, Rush knocked on his door, asking if he had had a fight with David. He said no. Then Rush went in, and all but dragged Paris out of his room and towards David's. Apparently David told Rush what happened and asked him to check on Paris. He made Paris stand outside David's room, stay silent and listen.

Paris would never forget the sounds of the sobs, the painful groans behind closed door.

"You're a lot like my sister. You act really mature, people forget you're just sixteen," whispered Rush. "But sometimes things happen and they get reminded and they worry about you and believe me, as an older brother I'm friggin' scared to death for my li'l sis sometimes. But I can't tell her that because she'll just go and do the opposite of what's good for her.

"I don't know what the deal is but he's trying to cope right now. Don't be the thing that tips it all over."

David was barely managing to hold it together to talk to him earlier. Paris knew that. Or he should have known, having seen what that document did to Qubine. "I... I was just angry at myself. I didn't mean to come across like that." Paris raised his hand to knock, but Rush stopped him.

"Don't. He knows that; he ain't an idiot. Just pretend nothing's happened," Rush told him. "When I was a hunter, on a really bad day when I got home I didn't need to talk about it, I just wanted family and normality. Making someone smile is a way of protecting them as well."

Paris's hand paused, slowly clenched into a fist, and lowered. "I'm sorry."

Rush pulled him away from the door. "What I said just now is from experience. What I'm going to say next is what Dave told me: if it weren't for the friends he'd made here, he'd have taken revenge for himself and all those kids a long time ago. But now going to jail or getting killed is no longer an option for him. Let's keep it that way, yeah?"

David said that? "When did he tell you that?"

"A while ago, after a few drinks. He's like, a featherweight. Apparently he wasn't like that before, I suppose it's a side effect." Rush scratched the back of his neck. "Learned _way_ more about him than I needed to know."

"Such as..."

"Not up to me to tell you. Go to dinner, he'll be there in a sec. Man, you can tell something's really wrong when _I_ am the voice of reason."

When David joined Paris at dinner later, as soon as he saw Paris's smile, his relief was so clear Paris felt even more guilty about his behaviour. People said he was mature for his age, but he still had a lot to learn about maturity.

 

Qubine still didn't go to class the day after seeing Paris.

And then the week after that, nobody went to class because they all had to attend the funeral of Qubine and Pater's mother. She died in an accident during an inspection trip with her eldest son to a town that was being reconstructed.

When Paris looked at Qubine in the eye, Qubine stared straight back, but didn't say a single word.

So this was his answer.

 

During the journey back home from the funeral, Paris bit his lip and did not utter a word.

"Karma," Rush said at the front, having volunteered to be their driver today.

Whilst Qubine said nothing about his mother, he did tell Paris that he would take care of the rest. Sullivan was nowhere to be found, however, and Qubine suspected he was probably no longer in Basel. What that meant, Paris could not understand. What was there outside of Basel? What did "outside of Basel" even mean?

And.

Qubine killed her. His own family. Did his hands shake when he pushed her down the foundation trench, did he flinch when the steel reinforcement bars pierced through her body? Was he going to do this to the other scientists too? Did he see that as his duty, or did he simply think he was doing God's work? Could he live the rest of his life pretending it had not happened?

Of course he could. David was going to spend the rest of his pretending. Faking it until it became real — that was the only way to move on.

"Not karma." Paris stiffened, waiting for David to expand on this. He couldn't possibly know that she was murdered, could he? "Karma means people get what they deserve by a mystical power of balance. It's saying there is a God."

After all that had happened, Paris couldn't blame his brother for being a non-believer.

"Eldest son of a cardinal, ladies and gentlemen."

David chuckled at Rush's response, then he turned to Paris. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Crisis of faith?" Rush asked, although it wasn't really a question but an observation.

Paris opted to look out the window. Yes, his faith was hardly intact anymore after all of this. "I know you two don't believe, and that's fine. But I still want to."

They stopped at a set of traffic lights. Rush looked up, his gaze meeting with Paris's in the mirror.

"Having faith's a good thing. Basel needs people like you way more than it needs people like me."

Paris wondered if that was true. If Basel needed him, and he needed Rush and David, then where was the room for faith?

"Do you know what's really big, yet insignificant all at the same time?"

The traffic lights changed and the car rolled forward once more.

"Pardon?"

"Just reminded myself something a friend asked me some time ago, when we met up around these parts," said Rush.

"What's the answer?" Paris asked.

"Don't know, he never told me."

"This world," David suddenly said.

"This world?"

"The world we are in. That's the answer."

Rush blinked a few times. "Huh. I thought it was a puzzle. No wonder I didn't get it, it's a philosophical question."

"It's not philosophy," said David, and when Rush pulled a confused face at him through the mirror, he smiled. "Don't worry about it."

The world. "Basel," Paris muttered under his breath. Big, yet insignificant. What did that mean?

David nudged him in the side to catch his attention. "Keep your faith, but always ask questions."

How could he do both? If he asked questions, how was he supposed to believe?

"The most important thing to have faith in is yourself," his brother said, and it was as if there were a thousand meanings behind his words. "You will be a great leader. Don't you think so too, Rush?"

"Yup, definitely."


	16. Out of His Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're back to the original timeline.

[AR1140, spring]

Morning. The house was silent, as usual, when Zephyr returned. Even David was not up yet to read his newspaper, which Zephyr had fetched from their mail box on his way in. He dropped it on a table, then went to put the kettle on. Since picking up the habit from his housemate, a morning just didn't feel right without a mug of tea.

He reached for another mug when he heard David's door open, followed by heavy footsteps, then the squeak of the rusty hinges on the bathroom door.

He put in extra sugar in the second mug when he heard the sound of retching.

The tea was on the coffee table, waiting, when David came out from the bathroom. The footsteps didn't sound familiar just now and Zephyr thought it was Rhagoh in there, but apparently it was David having a bad start of the day.

"Morning sickness?" he asked casually when David sat down, looking pale. He didn't look like he had slept at all.

David smiled at the quip.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just... relived the things you've forgotten. I was hoping to find some answers."

Zephyr froze. "What the hell for?" There were bits and pieces that he could recall, the earlier times at the orphanage and the seminary, when it was peaceful. Being taken, along with the other children, to Aetersyl. The day that became known as the Crank Seminary Massacre. But everything else was gone from his memory, and David said it was better that way, refusing to talk about the past in any great detail and in particular, not a single word on what happened at Aetersyl. Zephyr trusted his words.

David took his tea with both hands and drank it in great gulps. He was managing conversation so Zephyr assumed he wasn't about to lose his mind, otherwise the first thing he needed to do would be to make sure David didn't get hold of the grenades they had in storage.

At last David lowered his mug. He stared at its tea-stained bottom. "I have to. Thank you for the tea."

With that, he disappeared back in his bedroom.

 

The moving glow from Qubine's sculpture wasn't the best light source for reading, but David had it on all night because it felt reassuring. It wasn't even as if he was afraid of the dark, since he could see well with minimal light. But unlike other unnatural physical abilities he had, this was the one he could not control. He could put less effort into a jump and not leap so high, he could run a bit slower, and even train himself so that it became habitual to do so. But when he could see in the dark, it was an unavoidable reminder of the things that had been done to him.

Leaving a light on in the room became something he always did, so that he wasn't the only person who could see. Over the years, he gradually came to terms with the ability, but he grew fond of lights and found them very pleasing, something all his friends had picked up on.

The sky was brightening, and he didn't need a lamp on for reading anymore, but he left the sculpture switched on anyway. He had already read everything he had, starting from the documents about quartz and Zenith — which he didn't allow Paris to read even though his brother was the one who obtained the information for him — and when he realised he could make little sense of the quartz calculations, he went back to the information on the experiments performed on children. This Paris did read, as did Rush. The fact that the two of them didn't treat him as an abomination was something David would forever be thankful for.

After the tea and the quick chat with Zephyr, David went back to his reading. The only thing he could see that might help would be to remove his quartz from the mines, and hope this would remove Zenith's control over him. But the calculation for quartz locations were not only complicated, they were encoded. David felt like he might as well be reading something in a foreign tongue, like some of the old books from Cardinal Antourion's collections that came from a time when multiple languages existed. It would be impossible for him to make sense of this.

He could ask Paris from whom he obtained all these secrets, and seek out that person, but after spending seven years convincing Paris that he was moving on from all this, asking him now would undo everything. And Paris was never going to tell him, anyway. "That person died a few years ago," was what he would say.

The next person David could think of was Qubine, the man who excelled in both languages and science.

No.

Qubine would ask what the calculations were for and eventually he would find out the truth about Zenith. Even if he was a scientist and could accept that every life on Basel was regulated by a machine which acted as god, what if he investigated and found out about what happened at Aetersyl? Paris and Rush were able to accept him, but this was a gamble David did not want to take.

On top of that, if Jean Paulet's concerns about Qubine's mental wellbeing were founded, then something like this could push Qubine over.

David had no options.

He left his room again, looking for another drink. Zephyr was still there, doing the newspaper crossword.

"Zephyr." He couldn't believe he was doing this. Why would Zephyr know anything? "Does the word 'quartz' mean anything to you?"

Zephyr looked up from his paper. The surprise in his eyes surprised David.

"How—" they both started at the same time, then David decided to cut to the chase.

"I need to find Rhagoh's quartz. I think Zen..." he trailed off, then decided against using that name, because he didn't want to legitimise its identity, "...the machine is manipulating him to get to me."

It looked like Zephyr didn't believe him, or thought he was joking, but this wasn't something to joke about and he knew it.

"I know a guy who can help."

 

When given the opportunity to save everyone who was important to him, David suddenly found himself hesitant.

He and Zephyr were at one of the mines. The man Zephyr went to with David's list had obviously pulled some strings, so they just walked inside, unchallenged. David didn't know who that man was, and it didn't look like Zephyr was going to tell. It didn't matter as long as he could work out the locations of the quartz David was after.

The quartz vein was like a network of caverns completely covered by blue stones. It would be a magnificent sight if David did not know that each stone might be tied to someone's fate. Seeing it all here only made him afraid. Of what, he couldn't say. He was just afraid.

Zephyr didn't make many comments during the whole trip, but there was one thing he did say that stuck in David's mind: the thing about getting the quartz is that you need to worry about what to do with it.

So what would David do if he had the lives of Rhagoh, Rush, Paris, Qubine and Jean Paulet in his hands? If a quartz broke, someone's life was over. Could David handle such a responsibility? He couldn't give them these stones to look after themselves, either, without revealing too much of the truth. By taking their quartz, would he be really improving their lives, or just putting them under unnecessary danger?

Zephyr didn't seem at all surprised that after standing in front of Rhagoh's quartz for some time, David turned and walked away.

There was no solid evidence that what Rhagoh was going through was due to Zenith's interference. Zephyr had had no problems with Roeas, after all. There was no reason he could think of that would make Zenith care about who David was seeing. Zenith's survival depended on quartz, and each quartz was programmed to last a hundred or so years. People who were touched by the world beyond Basel, or people whose quartz had been tampered with, should be precious to Zenith because they became stronger, and potentially had longer life spans.

If Zenith's actions could be reasoned, then David should be important to it. Why would it try to provoke him, especially when people like him were vulnerable to the idea of death?

Perhaps Zenith wanted David to procreate. Or maybe some part of Rhagoh that he did not know himself rejected David. Or maybe it really was the spirit of his dead twin who spoke through his lips. The way to save Rhagoh was not to remove him from Zenith's control, but to remove David from his life.

Zephyr followed David, silent. He understood the weight and the difficulty of the decision.

None of the quartz was touched. David did not even try to find the ones that belonged to the most important people in his life; he could not take their lives in his hands, literally.

There was just one quartz that David would not leave here without: his own.

"It's not here."

Zephyr, who was trailing behind, went over to David. "What? Have you got the wrong place?"

David handed the notes over. They were at where David's quartz was supposed to be, and there was an obvious gap in the wall of stones.

It had already been taken.

 

"The lamp really is quite amazing."

"I'm glad."

"So, I was thinking... lunch was quite fun. Let's do it more often."

"More often?"

"Once a week."

"That really is quite often."

"If it's a fixed day every week, it's too not hard for you to schedule your work around it, right?"

"Well..."

"I'm feeling very cut-off here. Please."

"Emotional bribery is unusual for you."

"That's how bad it is."

"I would agree even without the bribery, as long as you do the cooking."

"Deal. Thank you."

"Just don't expect to get a new toy every week."

"Oh."

 

The first thing David wanted to do when he got home was to call everyone he knew and tell them how much he loved them, but he managed to calm himself down enough to just make the one call to Qubine. It was a surprise that his friend didn't mind visiting every week. This meant he could keep an eye on him more easily, and more talking hopefully would also mean Qubine might tell David if anything was bothering him. Besides, if David was going to drop dead any second...

"Are you okay?" A mug of tea appeared in front of him. Zephyr stood there, looking slightly worried.

"Yes. Thank you." David accepted the drink. "It's strange. Death has never frightened me before, but once the decision is out of my hands I just...."

"You'd want it to be your own choice. You're doing better than I would. I would've freaked out."

"I'm all right now. It could've been taken a long time ago and just didn't get recorded."

"I'll ask the guy and see if he's got any leads."

"Thanks. I'm going out again in a minute, but don't worry I'll be fine."

 

Rush opened his front door and found David outside.

"Rush, I love you."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to break up with Rhagoh."

"What?"

"I think I might die any minute."

"How? Why?"

"Can I panic in your house? I don't want Zephyr to see me like this."

"Come in and tell me what's going on."


	17. Two Shots to the Head

[AR1140, spring]

They walked, from Ebel City, over Rainy Bridge, through the busy junction just before the lift plaza, past Café Charlotte, until they reached the edge of the world. David recalled how last autumn he had thought about jumping off here to save everyone a bit of trouble. The thought was still tempting.

"How're you?"

"A lot of things happened. And I've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry... it's been a long few weeks..."

"No, it's fine. You needed time. I just want to know if you're all right."

"I'm... better. Maybe you won't think so, because Kate is still here. I've seen priests, I've seen doctors, but they are no use. I'm just learning by instinct what's best for me."

"I see."

"David, I... I don't know if she is real, but she is a part of me now, and I don't want to lose her again. I'm..."

"I've had enough."

"What? I..."

"I don't want to be with you anymore. You said you wanted an open and honest relationship. That's too much for me."

"David."

"You always insist on being top in bed and never listen to what I want."

"Oh..."

"It's too frustrating. I don't want to do this anymore."

Rhagoh's smile was, at the same time, the most fragile and the strongest one David had seen for a long time.

"You are such a great guy. I don't know why Kate doesn't like you."

No. Rhagoh was a great man for never asking the questions David didn't want to answer. Kate was protective and she was right to be.

"She sees straight through me."

David closed his eyes when Rhagoh moved forward and put his arms around him.

"It's not just you, I have my reasons too. Don't feel guilty, don't apologise," David whispered into Rhagoh's ear. "I was joking about the sex, by the way."

Rhagoh laughed, his face buried in David's neck.

"Thank you, David. I'm so sor—"

"What did I just say?"

The arms wound tighter.

"Bastard."

 

Vashyron came home to an empty house. Leanne and Zephyr were on a different job, and David said he was going to see his brother at the new cafe that opened a few days ago. He seemed to be very busy these days, and took on less hunter jobs than before, but the work for the cafe paid well so Vashyron wasn't worried that David wouldn't be able to pay his share of the household expenses.

Besides, people have different priorities in life. Vashyron liked and trusted cash more than people, it didn't mean everybody else did.

The one thing he did worry about was the general wellbeing of his housemates. Leanne didn't seem to be getting anywhere with Pater, and she wasn't getting any younger; David switched between being normal to being just a ghost of himself. When asked, he said he just broke up with his partner and Vashyron hadn't even realised he was seeing somebody; Zephyr rarely mentioned Roeas, but when the name did come up he always had the tiniest of smiles. It turned out he was the only one who was able to hold down a steady relationship.

Who would've thought.

He settled down for an afternoon alone with the TV, but then heard someone at the front door.

"Hey," it was Rush. An old face. "Skiving?" Vashyron tsked.

"The tinkerer here's better. Just passing by, thought I'd say hi." Rush peeked inside the house. "Is Dave around?"

"Out to see his brother."

"Oh, that's good."

"Something wrong?"

Rush put his hands in his pockets. "He's... in a pretty bad place right now."

"Ah. I've heard about the breakup."

"There's more than that... but anyway." Rush glanced to the side in a it's-not-up-to-me-to-say way. "Actually, if things look really bad, could you give me a call?"

Huh. This sounded serious. "Sure."

"Thanks, Vash."

"No problem."

 

There were many types of friends. There were friends like Rush, who David could hug, talk candid with, break down at. There were friends like Paris, who constantly reminded David how important he was in his life and would never let anyone tell him otherwise. There were friends like Jean Paulet, who was always a great laugh and good at giving advice.

And then there were friends like Qubine, who wasn't really any of the above.

But he was still good at realising there was a problem. "Did another kitten get killed, or is it the same one?"

He was wearing multiple layers again. It would be hard to see if he really was losing weight like Jean Paulet said. But he was also wearing his hair down, like David suggested. David couldn't really hide his pleased smile.

"I'll tell you my problem if you tell me yours."

"My problem?"

David decided against mentioning Jean Paulet for now. "You have this look on your face. Something's bothering you."

"Gravity," said Qubine, putting his coat down at the usual place. "Your turn."

"Damn scientist." Fine, maybe it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to talk, David already knew. But he could turn this around somehow. "I'm single again."

He watched Qubine's response very carefully, because it was always interesting to see how Qubine reacted to these things. But the man either gave nothing away, or there was nothing to give away. There was just awkwardness as he tried to come up with something to say, and in the end he reached for words he must have heard other people use before in similar situations. David wanted to pat him on the head for trying.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. It was bound to happen," David told the truth. "I wish I could just get drunk and forget about it. Sobriety is horrible."

"Excessive alcohol is bad for the body anyway."

"Don't apply logic to these things." Right. This was a good moment. David moved in. "I need a hug."

His arms were around Qubine before his friend could protest. Qubine was stiff — he had never been a tactile person and didn't like being jumped at like this, but he would have to forgive David given the circumstances — but after a few seconds he did make an effort to comfort David. And it wasn't like David was doing this entirely to get touchy feely with a friend who didn't like that sort of thing; he genuinely was in need of some kind of contact and, well, it was Qubine.

Jean Paulet was right. There was nothing on the man. What the hell was going on? Was Qubine hiding some sort of illness?

It took some willpower to let go. "I need to cook a bigger lunch," said David, going into the kitchen, "because you aren't getting fed properly."

Qubine clearly was trying to work out if he had been tricked. He adjusted his clothes, as if David had made him self conscious. "There is nothing wrong with me."

"No, just gravity." David rolled his eyes. "You're older than me. Why should I need to tell you to look after yourself?"

A sigh came from behind him.

"Pater mentioned he's putting his dog on a diet, but you don't have to do it too in sympathy."

"I didn't mean to. Lassie Doo's diet food doesn't taste as good as his regular food."

David burst out laughing and nearly dropped his bottle of cooking oil. Qubine smirked at him. It was hard to stay angry with him.

"If you're withering away because of disease, now is the time to tell me."

"I just forget about meals sometimes. It's nothing serious."

"And the staff don't remind you?"

"They aren't allowed near the workshop and don't know the telephone number there." Qubine gave this a thought. "I suppose there is a flaw in the system."

"You don't say." It seemed like Qubine lived in the workshop these days. Apart from when he was at the shooting range.

"I'll install a bell."

David could say he would talk to Pater, but that would just backfire. Getting Qubine's brother involved only meant getting on his bad side.

After lunch, they went up on the roof. Qubine noted that the custom gun drawing on the stairwell's outside wall had changed. David had replaced the barrels after finding better ones in Royotia.

"But you're not building it?"

"There are some connections I haven't worked out, and those barrels aren't strictly legal. I could lose my licence if I was caught using them."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Safety, mostly." David paused. Maybe he could broach the other subject today as well. "Speaking of guns, I heard a rumour that you're really into them right now."

Qubine frowned at him.

"People talk," said David. "What's going on? People are calling you a hermit. You're losing weight. You've started getting into firearms. This is a combination of things that can get people anxious."

"I didn't think anybody would or should care," Qubine said, looking genuinely confused. "Do I seem that way to you? That I'm losing my gears?"

Those gears were probably a little bit loose to begin with, but David would never say that out loud. "No, I think there is a logical reason behind your behaviour, and I want to know what it is."

They stared at each other for a long time. When Qubine realised David was not going to back down, he breathed out deeply.

"I just want to learn to protect myself. I got mugged a while ago."

"What? When was this?"

"A few months ago. Don't tell anyone, I just lost some money. There was a streetlamp just a little further from the core lift on Level 3 that had not been working for a while and they were waiting there."

They? "On _Chandelier_? How many people were there?"

"Three. They could have come from anywhere; there is a healthy black market for lift passes, David. Afterwards I suppose I didn't want to see anyone for a while."

Qubine pulled back a bit when David started searching his face. Qubine was a man ruled by logic, so this couldn't be all there was to it. Even if he was afraid, he would work out how low a chance it was for it to happen again and then walk out of his front door like nothing had happened.

"What did they do to you?"

Another stare-down, and Qubine eventually lifted his jumper and untucked his shirt enough for David to see a bullet wound in his side. David felt blood rushing to his head, the pressure becoming pulsating pain behind his eyes and in his brain.

"It's been treated. There's no permanent damage."

"What do they look like?"

"It was dark; I didn't see." Qubine hastily adjusted his clothes again.

"You damn liar! Was this why you wouldn't see anyone for a while? And what made you lose weight?"

"It... might have something to do with that."

"I can't believe you hid this from me!"

"I don't want Pater to ever find out."

"What has that got to do with not trusting me?"

Qubine flinched. "Why is it that important? Do you show me your injuries?"

"I work as a hunter. You got mugged. You can't compare the two!"

Expression darkening, Qubine simply turned away and headed for the stairs.

Shit. "Qubine!" David chased behind. Of course Qubine would never tell anyone, that was just how he was. And when he finally did choose to trust someone, he got accused of not being trusting. "Wait!"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry. I worry about you."

They stopped on the landing. Qubine whipped around. "And what does that achieve?"

David started. There were times when he thought Qubine might be impaired in some way, and this was one of them. "Nothing. It's just what people do."

"I don't want you to."

"It's not like I can help it."

Qubine was quiet for a moment, as if he was calibrating something in his head, and then he said, "Jean Paulet calls me an enfoiré with good reason." He shook his head at himself. "I don't want you to worry, because there is nothing you can do and I don't want you to be upset. I'm angry at myself for making you upset especially when you're already upset because of... I don't know his name."

The confession made David speechless.

Maybe it wasn't a confession, just an explanation from a person who had always been too brief when it came to matters of the heart and ended up being misunderstood.

Laughter rose from David's heart and poured out of him. He threw his arms around his friend, unable to stop himself.

"Did I just make a fool of myself? Jean Paulet told me—"

David shook his head rigorously, still laughing, tears rising in his eyes. "I love you. Listen to JP."

"Okay..." Qubine replied, somewhat suspicious.

"Next week, let's go to the shooting range here. I'll show you a trick or two. I'll sign as your responsible person, then you won't get into trouble."

"Fine. Thank you."

"No. Thank _you_."

 

Vashyron told David who to talk to for the kind of information he was after, but also reminded him the contract he had with Charlotte, just in case he was planning to do what Vashyron suspected. David thanked him.

"Two shots to the head" was the mantra of every hunter.

Six bullets later, David felt very much better.


	18. Switch

[AR1140, spring]

"You need to ask yourself if you're a hunter or a murderer."

"Do you honestly think there is a huge difference, or is that what you've been taught to say?"

The sharpness of the question and the softness of the tone in which it was asked unsettled Rush, and for a second he wondered if David was mocking him.

"There is a difference. A hunter's work is always traceable."

"I will take responsibility for my actions if questions are asked. But it seems like nobody misses them."

"And you've no idea how glad I am," Rush heaved a sigh. He really didn't want to fight. Vashyron tried to ring him during the day when he was at work, and by the time he came home to return the call it was already too late.

David looked a little apologetic now. Good. "I had to."

"What did they do?"

"I've promised not to tell." Sat on the side of his bed, arms resting on his thighs, David looked up at Rush. "How did you... ah. Vashyron."

"And the trail ends with me." Rush rubbed his forehead heavily. At least there was no rumour mill. There were people in Basel whose existence was so insignificant that no one cared if they disappeared. "Did you think about what might happen if somebody did miss them? Do you keep killing until you get away with it or get stopped? Are you going to be a mass murderer? How is Paris gonna feel about that?"

"You can guilt-trip me all you like, it doesn't change the fact that it had to be done."

"Don't give me that bullshit. Unless they were pointing a gun at you and it was kill or be killed. And something tells me that wasn't—"

"They put a bullet in someone I care about."

"That's not enough."

"Even if that someone wasn't like us? Even if he was defenceless?" David stood up, bringing his face mere inches from Rush's, and spoke slowly, his teeth clenched. "If someone shot Irina. What would you do?"

Rush's face blanched. He had not seen David this furious for a long time and he couldn't help but feel alarmed. "I would get them arrested."

"You wouldn't, because you know that's not how justice is served on Basel. That's why even cardinals use hunters," said David, standing completely still. The look in his eyes changed. "What you would do is hurt them, break them, and then you would kill them."

"Dave, listen to yourself," said Rush, although he wasn't even sure if he was talking to his friend anymore. It wasn't always easy to spot the change, the moment David gave in, but hesitation was not a good thing here. _Better get it wrong than catch me too late,_ David had once said himself.

"Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm saying."

"You're talking about torture." Keep calm, Rush thought to himself. And don't patronise him. "That's no solution."

Wait a bit. Give him one more chance.

"It's not. But revenge feels good. It's only what humans deserve anyway."

Rush fought down a sigh, and looked over David's shoulder. When his friend became distracted and started to turn around, he reached for his clip holder, rapidly pulled out something, and pressed a button.

David went limp for a second, then his entire body began to convulse. Cringing, Rush counted to five before switching off the device. David fell backwards. Rush caught him and lowered him onto the bed.

After a few moments, David curled up on his side whilst he went through every curse in the lower-level vocabulary.

"I love you too, Dave." Rush put the switch away. This looked more painful than he remembered. "Sorry, I might have overreacted..."

Breathing heavily and covered in sweat, David rolled onto his back, wincing the whole way. For a while he said nothing, the silence long enough for Rush to panic.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yes. Good to know that thing still works. Thanks."

Rush sat down. "I just fucking electrocuted you, man. Don't thank me!"

"I got the implant and let you have that switch exactly for this sort of thing." David closed his eyes. "I just killed them quickly. The idea did cross my mind, but... and it was for something they'd done last year. Regular justice wasn't going to catch up with them."

Now Rush felt extra guilty. "You could've told me that instead of say creepy things that made me think you tore their fingers off joint by joint."

"I know. Sorry."

Oh well. Let's not dwell on that, Rush thought. "Still raging?"

"Yes," David said. "At everything." He covered his eyes. Just lifting his arm seemed to bring pain, though. "I miss Rhagoh."

That seemed to have come from nowhere, and surprised Rush a little. "I thought you might get over him quite quickly."

David looked at him through the gaps in his fingers. "I wasn't in love with him, but I did love him. And I could do with some angry sex." He closed his fingers. "Actually, I probably can't get it up right now."

"I don't think I need to know that."

"If you've broken me for good, you're going to have to take responsibility. Don't worry, I'm a great bottom."

How Rush could tell David was back to his normal self: the affectionate sexual advances. "Then you don't need it up, technically."

"Technicality is very unbecoming."

David gestured at his desk, pointing at the white object on it. After Rush passed it over, David pressed something on it. The item turned out to be a rather interesting lamp.

Instead of putting it back on the desk, David just put the lamp on the bed beside him. "It's comforting," he said before Rush could ask.

"Sorry."

"You've done the right thing. I've told you."

"I mean, about Irina... if somebody shot her, I might lose my marbles too. I shouldn't have judged you."

"It's fine. You are right, I am a murderer. But I don't regret it."

There were three people Rush could think of whom David would have done anything for, and if they were hurt, would push him to such a state. If Paris had been shot, then Rush wasn't doing his job. And it would have been impossible for someone as important as Cardinal Jean Paulet to cover up this sort of thing. So that left only one person.

Qubine would probably never know what David just did for him. Then again, David probably would never find out exactly how Qubine's mother died, either.

"It's a slippery slope. That's all I'm sayin'."

"You have my switch. If I get naughty, turn me on."

 

"JP's not here yet?"

Qubine looked up from his book just as David slid into the seat opposite his, and he did a quiet double-take. "New wardrobe?"

"Samples from Rush's sister," David explained. The clothes were slightly less skin tight than Irina originally made them, and he quite liked the overall look, so he thought he would give the outfit a whirl. "For a change of mood."

Qubine nodded in that "I see" way of his, acknowledging the reply with no comment of his own to give.

"I've not been here before. So you are responsible for the coffee."

"I just keep the harvest workers safe." David sat back. He knew what Qubine was about to say. "It's not incestuous. It's nepotism."

"A far superior notion."

"Absolutely."

Qubine snorted and closed his book. Jean Paulet had arrived, and was moving towards his friends as if he wanted to burst into song and dance.

"Oh, David, that's quite the look. You ooze raw appeal even when completely covered up! Which designer is this?"

David recalled the days when Jean Paulet's wife, then just a friend, insisted they were dating. It was amazing Jean Paulet managed to convince her otherwise, really. "A friend of mine. I'll introduce you some time."

It was nighttime, and the cafe had already closed its doors. There were workers cleaning up and making preparation for the next day, but the friends sat at their table, undisturbed. Charlotte told David before that he would find the cafe beneficial to him, and not only financially. Now he saw what she meant. This cafe provided an easy meeting place near the core lift at any hour.

"David, I apologise in advance but you'll just have to tolerate my staring until I get used to the look."

"My eyes are up here," David joked, pretending to guide Jean Paulet's gaze towards his face with two fingers. "And you're a married man."

"I can still appreciate the aesthetics of the male form," Jean Paulet declared, turning towards Qubine, still not taking his seat. "You are an artiste. Don't even pretend you don't see what a gorgeous fellow David is."

"I'm a scientist _e_ ," Qubine deadpanned.

David turned away and hid a laugh. This was the first time he met up with Jean Paulet since breaking up with Rhagoh, and his friend was trying to make him feel desirable. It was quite obvious.

"You're a scientist, and his eyes are up there."

Jean Paulet's response made David turn back, just in time to see Qubine shifting his eyes decidedly away from everyone.

"It's a little distracting. I'm not used to it."

Okay, even Qubine checked him out. Now David did feel very desirable. Even if Qubine and Jean Paulet were playing an elaborate double-act, it was working.

Someone came over and asked if they wanted coffee and cake. They said yes to both.

"So, mes amis, I have good news to announce!" His head dipped, both of his hands clenched into fists and pressed at his chest, Jean Paulet looked like he was about to burst with excitement. "I—"

"Turned?" suggested Qubine. "That would explain many things."

David shook his head. "He discovered something better than cravats."

"Impossible. He finally mastered wearing five-inch heels."

"Or platforms."

"And learned how to dance in them."

"Seems likely. How long did it take you, JP?"

Jean Paulet took a deep breath, put a hand on each of his friend's shoulder, and announced, "I am going to be a father!"

"God help us," Qubine muttered, although the news was already making his lips curl upwards. David had risen from his chair and was giving Jean Paulet a hug of congratulations. "You know how to procreate?"

"Not everybody is like you and don't know what to do in the bedroom, my chaste friend. In fact, most people enjoy a good tumble. You should give it a try."

Qubine tilted his head. "What makes you think I'm a virgin?"

Everyone became still, and then David slowly let go of Jean Paulet.

"You're not?"

"I don't see the need to talk about it."

The revelation seemed to have caused Jean Paulet to short-circuit. "What? When? How come I've never heard about this?"

"It's not worth talking about." Qubine shrugged, dismissive. "Don't let me steal your thunder. You're having a child."

"But... but... urgh!" Jean Paulet pulled a chair out and finally sat down dramatically. "You are going to tell me all about it later!"

"I don't think so." Qubine uncrossed his legs and recrossed them in the other direction. "Have you picked names?"

There was some feet stomping, but Jean Paulet finally let the issue go, much to David's disappointment.

"Not yet. But," Jean Paulet filled everybody's cups with the jug of coffee in the middle. "would you two do me the honour of being my child's godparents?"

Right away David's breath caught and his eyes welled up. Someone like Jean Paulet, who was made of pure good, wanted someone like him to be his child's godparent? 

He turned away when he noticed Qubine had seen him, and disguised the unexpected reaction as a sneeze. Then he heard what almost sounded like a giggle. He shot a look at Qubine, annoyed that he was actually laughing, but then Qubine opened his mouth.

"Fairy godmother."

Annoyance morphed into incredulousness and then relief. David planted his face onto the table, silently thanking Qubine for the save. "You're the one with long hair, godmother," he said, kicking Qubine not-so-discreetly under the table.

"Now now, children. I support equal opportunities, you can both be godmother if you want, there's no need to fight."

Qubine kicked back and then pushed his chair back to avoid further attacks. "I suppose I should be honoured, but dare I suggest that you look for more... godly people for this?"

"Well... it's not as if you need to provide spiritual guidance. This is just so that if anything befalls Emmy and me..."

"And you would trust David and me to raise a child."

David lowered his face onto the table again, suddenly laughing too hard to sit up. Qubine had a very good point; a childhood spent playing with test tubes and conical flasks, or guns and grenades, was probably not what Emmy had in mind.

"He's right," said David after he gathered himself together. "There are people much more suitable than us. We love you, so much that we don't want to ruin the life of your offspring."

The expectant father looked at his friends, and sighed. If any of Jean Paulet's fans were here and saw this, David thought, they would lynch him and Qubine on the spot for making that pretty face look so sad.

"Emmy did say this would be your response."

"She knows us well."

Qubine picked up his coffee. "I hate children anyway."

"He means 'congratulations'."

 

"He seems much happier these days."

They looked at Qubine, who was waiting for the lift to come down, some distance ahead of them. He wasn't an idiot and he must know they were talking about him, but he just let them be.

"I try." David would like to think it was because of his influence, but chances were Qubine was just more relaxed now that he'd told someone about the mugging. But that was fine, it wasn't like he minded seeing Qubine every week.

"He listens to you," said Jean Paulet with a small smile, "and enjoys your attention."

"He takes your advice to heart. He just doesn't show it when you're around."

"That's not nearly the same." An arm went across David's shoulders. Jean Paulet turned themselves away from their friend for the moment. "Isn't it time?"

David tilted his head.

"Come now, David. I may be an idiot, but I'm not blind."

"JP, I think—"

"I want my friends to be happy. And there's such an easy way for you both to be happy."

"What are you even talking about?" David tried to pull away, but Jean Paulet would not let go. He didn't want to talk about this. He had spent enough time not talking about it, if it could just stay this way...

"Far be it for me to interfere, but you do know that he returns your feelings, don't you?"

David could see what his friend was doing there. "There are no feelings. Look, I just recently came out of a relationship... this is not nice of you."

It was as if Jean Paulet hadn't heard him at all. "Eight years is a long time to pine. Frankly, now that we've discovered he isn't asexual, I don't understand why you two aren't going at each other like rabbits yet."

"Cardinal!"

"I've said what I've wanted to say." The hand on David's shoulders slapped a few times, then removed itself. "Do something before the tension kills me, s’il te plaît."

Jean Paulet walked away, humming to himself. Qubine was eyeing them, suspicious, and there was no chance for David to say more.

The lift came and went. David started his way home.

Him and Qubine. Someone like him, and Qubine. Eight years was a long enough time to know it would never work.

No, Qubine would never want him.


	19. Anniversary

[AR1140, spring/summer]

Weekend. What day of the week it was usually didn't matter to the self-employed, but Zephyr had noticed that Leanne often got excited about weekends these days. She didn't talk about it, but he had not seen her as happy as this since she jumped off that bridge from Chandelier, determined to take fate into her own hands, only to discover she was still alive after the time her quartz dictated she was supposed to die.

And Pater, too, was happy beyond words. One night he dropped by and all but exploded with joy, telling Zephyr exactly how the two of them asked each other out at the same time. Not that Zephyr hadn't been expecting this, and he was glad for them, but it did feel strange to know they were together, one of them his housemate and teenage crush, the other a good friend.

"I'm going out! Won't be back for dinner!"

Leanne was gone before anyone could say bye. Zephyr's attention returned to his lunch, which was bubbling away in a pot. David wandered in and took a look.

"I don't suppose there's enough for two?"

"If you open another can, there will be."

David started rummaging in the cabinets.

"You at home all day?"

"Might go out tonight. Depends on what time Roeas comes back from her job."

David found the soup and the can opener. "You two have been together for quite some time."

Zephyr thought about it. "A year." It was almost their anniversary, actually. When they first met he had never thought they would last that long — he gave it exactly one night.

This also meant it was around a year ago that David told Leanne to not live her life worrying about Zephyr's fate. Maybe that was why it took Leanne and Pater so long. They could have been together years ago if it hadn't been for him.

David came over with his can. Zephyr gestured for him to pour it straight in.

"Do you mind if I ask you something personal, Zephyr?"

"Go ahead."

"How much does Roeas know about you?"

"Not much. She doesn't ask," said Zephyr, thinking about the conversations they had. "Sometimes I mention things and she listens."

"I guess that works for you. You two seem very good together."

Now Zephyr felt a little embarrassed. Relationships really were not his forte, he just got lucky. "I guess. Why?"

"Just wondering, really."

"Love trouble?"

David chuckled. "I've got far bigger problems in my life."

A couple of years ago Zephyr would have thought David was just trying to get out of a topic he didn't want to discuss, but now he was wiser, or maybe he just got used to the way David talked, and he knew exactly what David meant.

It was one of those things that was on his mind a lot, and it was frustrating because he couldn't help. Juris had already checked his calculations and insisted they were right, and even went to the mine to see for himself, but he had no idea where David's quartz could have gone.

If Zephyr's own quartz had gone missing, he didn't think think he'd want to try and have any relationship either. Roeas would be upset if he suddenly dropped dead... right? Or would she be upset if they separated because he had lost his quartz?

"Did you ask the person you first heard about quartz from?" He switched off the hob and gestured for the bowls.

"I don't want him to worry."

"But this is pretty important."

"I know. Still... it's unlikely to change anything."

They left the kitchen, taking their soup with them.

"What is it?"

"Are you just going to leave it?"

"There aren't other options."

"But..." How could anyone live knowing he might die any minute?

The question surprised Zephyr. This was how he used to live and it had never bothered him before, but something had changed. Life now... it was worth living. Since when did this happen?

He wished it didn't take a good friend's life being threatened for him to realise how much his own had changed for the better.

"The people of the past started linking human lives to quartz because of a disease called cancer that could kill at any time. When you think about it, this is like I've got that disease. It's more natural than having a time programmed for you."

"I bet those people still went after all the good stuff in life, even with cancer. You just needa figure out what you live for."

David sighed, and smiled.

"Sounds familiar."

"I wonder why."

 

Nora laughed when Zephyr asked him if she thought Roeas would care about their anniversary. "Not a clue. She'd never hit a year before."

Apart from Nora, he had only met a handful of Roeas's friends — she was picky when it came to people and had few who she actually considered friends, a result of having been put on a pedestal and worshipped by too many admirers. Anyway, he suspected her friends would give the same response. There was no use asking his housemates either, because they wouldn't know her better than him, and he really didn't want a lecture on women from Vashyron.

With his own past relationships lasting a few weeks at the most, this was a first in many respects. Should he try to mark the occasion, or would that put strain on a relationship that was based on the lack of promises? What would she want, if anything at all?

On top of all that, Roeas was the sort of person who knew exactly what she wanted. From trophy hunts, to clothes, to the occasional bottle of vintage red, what she wanted, she went and got herself. Trying to get a gift for her was like getting a gift for someone who already had everything.

After a few days of headache, Zephyr went back to Nora, defeated.

Thin brows brought together in a frown, she scrutinised him. "You're pretty serious about her," she said after a few moments, eyes widening gradually as if some kind of realisation dawned.

Zephyr didn't say anything; he didn't know if he was, he just didn't want to get this wrong. Roeas wasn't like Leanne and didn't hit people if she was upset or wanted attention — although he would admit she did seem the sort at first — but the silent sulking type was harder to deal with, he didn't need to be an expert on women to know this much.

At this point, if Leanne was here and could hear his thoughts, she would say of course, it took one to know one and Zephyr himself was a prime example of the sulking type, after all. She would be wrong. He rarely sulked, he just had a lot going on in his head and few people had to patience to wait.

Maybe that was why he had always got on better with Roeas, David and Vashyron. They were patient. And no, actually, Roeas wouldn't be the type to sulk, of course. Why was he even worried about that?

Nora was watching his face change, and smirking. Zephyr carefully smoothed his expression over.

"Has she ever said what it is about m—" no, wrong question. He didn't do anything special. If Roeas couldn't get to a year with other people, something was wrong about them, "the other people she didn't like?"

"Beats me. She's a go-getter and she reads people like a book. You'd think she wouldn't bother with the fans and groupies if she knew they wouldn't last. Maybe she just didn't want a relationship."

Did that mean she wanted one now? Did Zephyr just appeared at the right time? Maybe she still didn't want one, he just happened to not have pissed her off yet. Roeas hardly ever mentioned her ex-partners, but when she did she was just dismissive, as if they were some old classmates from a decade ago whom she never really got to know or thought much of. He could easily see himself becoming one of them.

In the past, he would have been fine with that.

"I guess she doesn't talk to you about me."

A hand on her hip, Nora shifted her weight from one leg to another. "Not that much, and I think I'm starting to see why."

Well, Nora was pissed off already. Maybe. But she must be just toying with him because she was smirking again.

"She said you're more than what people can see. She did mention you've got a walker in your pants and you're very good at using it, maybe that's what she meant."

"R...right."

She gave him a look. "You do know I'm joking."

He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, uncomfortable.

"She likes both guys and girls, you're a bit of both, maybe that's what she digs about you. How do I know?" Nora kept talking, not giving Zephyr time to protest. "Don't ask stupid questions, that's what I can tell you. Words are fine, noise is annoying."

She did have the answer he was after, she just wasn't telling him, Zephyr realised.

Actually, she had already told him, he further realised a moment later.

He mumbled a thanks, turning to leave.

"I wasn't kidding about the walker by the way! That's really what she said!"

He walked briskly out the door.

 

David had never seen Roeas with her hair down before. Then again, he had only seen her a handful of times, always at the guild. So it was a bit of a surprise to see her come through the front door with Zephyr, hair down and only lightly armed, even though he knew they were dating.

Introductions were made: Roeas, Qubine. Qubine, Roeas. Then Zephyr went to the kitchen to get some drinks and David left his lunch briefly to join him.

"Zephyr, let me know if you want me to clear out?"

"No? We're going upstairs so you guys can just ignore us. Sorry, I forgot to tell you she's coming over."

"Don't worry about that." David had visitors often and this wasn't just his home, after all. "I just thought it might be a special occasion."

"It's nothing. Just a normal day at home."

Ah. "Understood," David said. Zephyr wanted to show Roeas a typical day of his life. It would make no sense for David to deliberately get out of their way.

They left the kitchen together just in time to see Roeas heave a deep, mournful sigh, a hand flicking back the hair that had fallen forward when she tilted her head quizzically, her gaze fixed on Qubine.

"Oh, honey."

Judging from Qubine's reaction, the two didn't know each other and he was as confused as David was until David remembered that was just what Roeas did to people. He sat back down and, after a short exchange of greetings and updates, Roeas and Zephyr headed up to the roof.

After they heard the door close and saw that the roof hatch was shut, Qubine lowered his cutlery. "What was that all about?"

"She always does that to people she meets for the first time. Don't worry about it."

David made a note to ask Roeas later what she saw.

 

"That used to be my room," Zephyr pointed to their far left, and then to the right. "I live here now. David's right below."

"Does that mean we need to be careful or would he hear us?"

"I don't know, I haven't tested. If it helps, I never heard him and his ex."

Roeas stole a glance at him, but didn't comment. Hands on the rail that surrounded the roof, she sat on it, her feet resting on the lower rung.

"So this is your home."

"Yup."

"That Qubine doesn't live here."

"No, he's David's friend."

"Good. I'd pop a vein otherwise."

"Something wrong with him?"

She shook her head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Those two downstairs. Nothing's right with their lives. Just seeing them in the same room makes me want to punch something."

Zephyr snorted. She meant it, he was sure, otherwise she wouldn't have said it. He didn't know what Qubine's problem was, but hell if he didn't want to help David out. It was just that there was nothing that could be done. And all this was happening just as Zephyr himself started finding life a little more tolerable than before, as if it was at David's expense, or Zenith just wouldn't allow them to both be content at the same time.

But this was a conversation for another time, if it should be had at all. Today wasn't about other people.

Ever since he learned that David's quartz had gone missing, Zephyr had been asking himself what he would do in the same situation. His housemate seemed determined to go on as normal, and Zephyr thought he might, too. He just wouldn't make promises he probably couldn't keep. Perhaps if he was single he wouldn't have started seeing Roeas, but that wasn't the case.

Fortunately, unlike David, Zephyr knew exactly where his quartz was. And some days, when the noise in his head quieted down enough, he even felt as though he was ready to make some commitments. The idea of setting down a marker no longer felt ridiculous; it wouldn't be something to show him just how far he had strayed but rather, a beacon to help him find his way back when the storms hit.

"You could come here once in a while, if you like."

Roeas looked genuinely surprised, and then delighted. What Zephyr just said was not an offer or concession, but permission. He wasn't one of those who idolised her and made noises of adoration all the time. His trust had to be earned. He didn't always go out of his way for her. He was, as Vashyron would put it, one lucky son of a bitch whose refusal to make excessive effort meant he was better than everyone else. The result was there were no empty promises or outbursts of blind admiration, but much mutual respect as they worked to learned about each other. What made them tick, what made them angry. Where their boundaries were. Who they respected. What meant nothing to them at all. What it meant to show each other their homes and their lives.

She hopped down from the rail. "That'd be nice."

He tugged her towards him, and kissed her.

After a year, Zephyr was ready for a bit more. Hopefully she was ready for him.


	20. Turnip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I html-ed this correctly, then you should be able to see the translations of the French conversation by cursor hover.
> 
> Storme helped me with the French bits because I don't speak French at all. Any error there is because ~~Storme's out of practice~~ it hasn't been in active use for over over 1000 years and THIS IS HOW QUBINE AND JP USE IT OKAY?

[AR1140, summer/autumn]

A delivery arrived for him, one of the household staff said over the intercom. He told her to leave it by the door. The new system had its advantages, although a couple of the staff tended to get too enthusiastic with it, like children with a new toy. He hoped the novelty would soon wear out.

When he finished the task at hand and went to retrieve his mail, the maid was at the door, apparently only having just found time to put it down as well. He thanked her, took the box, thanked her again and shut the door with his foot.

"Master? Master?"

His hands were full and he didn't want to put the box down to open the door again, so he just raised his voice. "Yes?"

"What time would you like to take dinner tonight?"

"I won't need dinner, thank you."

"But Cardinal Pater said..." she didn't finish her sentence. People around here rarely finished sentences when they talked to him, he had noticed since a long time ago. Whether they were fearful or thought he was telepathic, he could not tell.

He didn't think he needed to explain his actions to people, but Pater would get worried if he didn't get an explanation. "I am going out later."

"Oh..."

"Is there anything else?"

"No, Master... Qubine... I..."

Qubine left the door before she finished mumbling, otherwise he would be there for minutes. Finding a surface to put the package down was easy, now that most of his work had been tidied up after it had reached its final stages. He didn't even get mail often these days, so he could guess what the contents of this particular delivery was.

He sliced open the tape with a key, removed layers of protective padding and then took out one of the gun barrels. It wasn't anything new to him; he had bought one before and played with it enough to understand its potential before buying a whole box of them. It cost a small fortune, like ordering anything from Royotia did, but not bad enough that he couldn't make it back by doing some work for Antourion and Rowen or making a few gadgets for people with too much money to spend. Qubine guessed he could have asked David to make a trip down to save some money, but that felt like exploiting their friendship and David would ask questions. And then feelings would be hurt when Qubine refused to answer them.

In fact, if anyone saw this latest purchase, rumours would start again that Qubine was going off the rails and this time probably even David wouldn't believe him if he said he was completely lucid. He still had to thank Jean Paulet and David for their intervention some weeks ago, he better not start giving them, or anyone, any reason to doubt him now.

He had to do what he had to do. But nobody needed to know about it.

Qubine checked his watch. Speaking of David, he needed to start getting ready for their meeting.

 

"You would make a very good sniper."

David meant Qubine had very good aim but would not do well if he was too close to the enemy. This was a fair assessment. When he got mugged, it dawned on him that having a weapon meant nothing if he couldn't use it well. He got the technical part of it down now. As for the physical, it was something he would have to work hard on. Of course he would never be as fast as David, but he planned to at least be able to land a few shots before getting hurt himself, when the time came.

"If I am ever in need of a change of profession I know where to go, then," he said, putting down his holster near where David left his, then sat down at the table whilst David busied himself plating up their take-away dinner.

"Are you suggesting you might one day leave your workshop for good?" David asked, and Qubine gave him a don't-be-ridiculous look. "I thought not."

"Oh, you never know. I could live in a library instead. Someone needs to protect those books."

David put their food down. Burgers and fries, and doughnuts for later. "You're probably the most eligible bachelor in all of Basel after Cardinal Rowen, and all you think about is books."

Eligible bachelor, hmm. Qubine hadn't realised that. "You say that as if it's a surprise."

"Not exactly, but it's still a shock, especially after finding out you're not completely disinterested in sex."

Ah, that. Qubine cast his mind back to that conversation a few weeks ago. Jean Paulet's reaction was precious. "It doesn't mean I want a relationship or get married." David was giving him that look now, grey eyes under golden fringe, searching and searching. He was weak against that look and he hoped David would never know it. "What?"

"Was it a bad experience? Is that why you don't want to be with anyone now?"

"There was nothing bad about it." Why was David so interested? "I told you before: relationships are too cumbersome and time-consuming, they disagree with my lifestyle."

David dipped his fries in barbeque sauce without looking. "Who was it? Or who were they?"

This line of relentless questions was starting to make Qubine feel a little baffled. He tried a different tactic. "Why do you care where my penis has been?"

That made David laugh, shallow dimples appearing on his cheeks. No lines around his eyes, however; he would remain youthful for many years yet, "Because I'm nosy and you've never mentioned it. The more secretive something seems, the more people want to know about it, that's the way it works."

Qubine took a deep breath, then exhaled. It really was nothing of interest to David, surely. But if he answered all the questions now, then David wouldn't ask them again. "There was a maid who worked for Antourion."

David's eyes widened. He swallowed his food, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You went to his manor to bang his books and read his maid."

That was one way to put it, Qubine thought. It was convenient and she was willing, there was nothing wrong about that.

"So when was this? And was she the only one?"

He sighed again. "During my late teens, for a year or so. Then she and her then boyfriend split up, she found a new boyfriend and we stopped."

"She split up with her boyfriend?"

"It wasn't because of me. He was very accommodating."

"Wait, you mean..."

"I slept with her and her then boyfriend, yes. Sometimes individually, more usually at the same time."

Whilst David gaped, speechless, Qubine examined his burger and decided to use cutlery rather than his hands, because the structure didn't look stable and he didn't want sauce all over his fingers. When his friend still said nothing after a whole minute, he arched an eyebrow at him.

"You asked."

"I did. I just... didn't expect that sort of answer."

"What were you expecting?"

"Not that," David just said, his face ever so slightly reddening.

It was a strange sight, David blushing because of something he said. Qubine didn't think this could happen, and it made him feel as though he had either embarrassed David or himself with the kind of talk that really should not be embarrassing between close friends. He broke eye contact with David and shifted his attention on his burger again.

"And after the maid and her boyfriend?"

"There wasn't anyone after that."

Qubine had started investigating his mother around that time, and then David arrived in Chandelier. It would be cliched, but not inaccurate to say that his entire life had changed at that point.

He couldn't say if he regretted it all. It was his decision, but he didn't feel there were other choices. How was he to know that reading about his mother's experiments would lead to the truth behind Basel, and behind David? A truth that David still would not trust him with, despite all these years being "best friends"?

"No one, since your late teens?" David asked, probably doing a quick count in his head. "But that's years! Don't you get the urge at all?"

"Shocking as this may be, I am human, so yes, I have urges." This conversation was getting very strange. "I also have hands."

"I think I know what to get you for your next birthday present: a night at a brothel."

"Cardinal Pater's brother at the brothel. That's going to go well." It seemed like David was going to suggest some alternatives, so Qubine frowned at him. "It's not important to me, therefore I don't look for it. You don't need to worry about my sex life for me."

After a moment, David sighed with defeat. He seemed both worried and relieved, perhaps because he had just been told his intervention would not be required or welcomed. When it came to meddling, David always backed off far sooner than Jean Paulet would, which was fortunate. David always avoided stepping out of line, whereas Jean Paulet liked to cross it. Qubine only wished he knew where the line was so that he didn't have to stay far, far away, just in case.

"Why are you always so busy anyway?"

Qubine put his food down for the moment. "This week I have gun practice and dinner with you. Lunch with you. Dinner with Paris. Two meetings with Rowen, one on the organisation at Feast of the Prelate, the other on Basel's auxiliary power supply. Some language translation work for Antourion. Drinks with you and Jean Paulet. Editing work on Pater's comic. Plus my own work."

"You are in high demand," said David after Qubine finished, sympathetic.

"I've already turned down other requests. There is no time for romance, as you can see."

"But you've let me take up three of your slots."

David looked confused, so Qubine reached for the explanation he had already prepared.

"Well, shooting practice is something for myself, and Jean Paulet would annoy the hell out of me if I turned down the drinks. You don't need to feel guilty about taking up my time."

His dinner finished in several big bites, David wiped his hands and sat back in his chair. "And here I was, thinking maybe I was a little bit special."

"If it makes you happy, then think about it whichever way you like."

Sometimes Qubine didn't understand the words that came out of his own mouth.

"Maybe I will, then. At this frequency, I'm practically your romance."

What was David even talking about? He couldn't possibly... "Bragging rights for use in front of Jean Paulet?"

"Of course."

The smile on David's lips was devious. Qubine made himself look away, and snorted.

David wasn't wrong. This was as close to romance as he was ever going to get.

 

 

Another night, another dinner. Qubine wouldn't have minded if eating with Paris didn't mean eating into his work time, but he needed to talk to Paris anyway, and it was a good way of making sure he cleared his plate as per etiquette. It wasn't a waste of time, he just wished he had more hours in the day, that was all.

During dinner, Paris mentioned that it had been nearly two years since David moved down to Level 4, and he still hadn't found a way to let his brother move back up again. The political situation had improved, but it was still delicate, and Paris was beginning to suspect that his mother had a hand in this. He was the one whose position was supposedly threatened, yet his will was still being ignored.

It wasn't anything unusual, Qubine told him. There were similar examples throughout history of people loyal to the establishment becoming complete idiots because of their loyalty. He couldn't comment on what Paris's mother might or might not have done, but suggested that those thoughts should never leave these four walls.

"I know that," Paris glared at him, annoyed at first, and then just dejected. "I simply want to help him find a home here. Things didn't work out with Rhagoh, but David did try. I think he wants to be here too."

Well, this was unlikely to go down well, but Qubine had to say it. "I think he is happier where he is."

"What?"

"Working as a hunter gives him relief." David needed to spill blood. Qubine couldn't quite bring himself to say that directly, but Paris should understand, even if he didn't want to. "If he was to resettle up here. it would be to put him in a cage." David would willingly step inside this cage for Paris, but it would not be good for him.

For a few moments Qubine thought Paris would get up and punch him, but Paris put his cutlery down, took a large gulp of his wine, set down the glass, stared at the tablecloth, and became silent. Then, as if admitting to a painful secret, he pressed his knuckles against his mouth and took a deep breath before speaking.

"I... I have noticed that he seems more relaxed now than he used to be up here, but I thought it's because his condition has improved, or he is pretending, to make me feel better. I don't want to think that I can't help him in any way at all."

"You know that you have helped him. But the rest is biology."

Paris laughed bitterly, lifting his gaze to meet Qubine's. "This is when I have to concede that science has more influence than faith, I suppose?"

Qubine said nothing. That was a thought Paris would have to chew on and digest for himself.

He didn't stay long after dinner. Charlotte arrived just as he was about to leave, and they exchanged a few quick words, most importantly a bit of information Qubine had been waiting for. After that, he returned to his workshop, ready for a long night.

There was, in truth, no deadline for what he was doing, because he didn't know when it would be needed. But exactly because of this, it was all the more urgent. He knew he had become obsessed — eight years with one single, focused goal would do that to anyone — but the obsession drove him forward and he was happy to carry on until the task was done.

But before he started work on redesigning those gun barrels again, he made a phone call. There was a man in Royotia who had worked with David for some time, an ex-military whose responsibilities were to arrange the workforce for the coffee harvest and provide information on the local monsters. Charlotte had put them in contact. Qubine had met and talked to him, and decided he was loyal and trustworthy, ideal for the task he had in mind.

He was going to run this by Paris first, but it would work much better if he wasn't told.

"Hello? …Yes. I have the date."

 

Charlotte put down a glass of water and left him alone, not a word or a look exchanged between them.

Qubine was early, as usual; he detested impunctuality and leaving sufficient time meant he could sneak a bit of reading in. Though, it had been a very long week so perhaps he should give his eyes a rest now. On top of everything else, those meetings with Rowen were long-drawn and tiring, and now he could feel his concentration getting craggy around the edges. Maybe he should take a night off and get some rest.

He put the book away and closed his eyes until he could hear his friends arriving, Jean Paulet toning down his grand entrance for once. Qubine looked out the cafe through the glass wall just as his friends sat down.

"Strange. I thought it was the end of the world."

Jean Paulet rolled his eyes. Despite the warm weather, he was still wearing a cravat with his shirt. "The world is hardly about me today. I've heard a rumour and we're just about to confirm if it is true."

"What rumour?"

Jean Paulet tipped his head at David, who brandished an envelope in his hand. It was official stationery sent from the Office of Cardinal Paris. Qubine raised his eyebrows.

With great care David opened his post and extracted its contents: a pass for the Core Lift, and a handwritten note.

_Brother, come home for dinner this weekend?_

Grinning all the way up to his eyes, David put a hand on Jean Paulet's shoulder to stop him from getting up and dancing.

"How in the world did you manage that?" Qubine asked, checking the authenticity of the lift pass.

"You haven't heard?"

"As you'd aptly put it: I live in a cave."

David didn't seem surprised. "I was near Royotia yesterday with the coffee farmers. On the way back, I bumped into a bunch of monsters and people who needed help, including Paris and his mother."

"You saved them, I guess?"

"It wasn't a big deal. Those monsters were huge and looked fierce but they weren't actually very tough, Rush probably could have sorted things out by himself, but I butted in anyway. It turned out that some of the people there were the ones who didn't want me on Chandelier."

"So now they love you and give you a lift pass. How capricious."

Jean Paulet leaned forward, made sure his cravat didn't dip into the sugar bowl, and did his best to not raise his voice. "David saved their lives! Even they know to be thankful for that!"

Qubine just snorted, and raised his glass of water. He already knew that everything turned out just as he planned, but it was satisfying to hear it from David himself. "Well, congratulations on your repatriation, I suppose."

David laughed and thanked him, then left the table to get themselves some drinks. His job didn't involve even touching the coffee plant, but he was certainly proud of the end product. Qubine did plan to pass on the caffeine but he didn't want to turn David down.

"I haven't seen him this happy since..." Jean Paulet said, watching their friend disappear into the kitchen, "...ever. I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

"I've seen it before. At your wedding." Qubine remembered it clearly, the thought of never being able to give David such genuine joy himself. Well, he had finally managed.

"I must have been too busy to notice." Jean Paulet sighed at the memory. "Now that he is free to travel, are you finally going to ask him out?"

Qubine froze.

"It's only early evening and you are already drunk?"

Jean Paulet just smiled and nudged his seat closer. "Il est dans ta peau."

Instinctively Qubine wanted to move himself away. He glanced at the kitchen; David was nowhere in sight. "Bêtises."

"Tout le monde peut le voir, mon ami. Ce que tu attends pour lui d'agir sur cette attraction mutuelle?" Arms swinging in the air, Jean Paulet gesticulated like the best of them, as if he needed more emphasis on what he was saying.

The words gave Qubine slight horror. Jean Paulet had to be exaggerating and imagining things. "Bon sang, tu es obsédé par matchmaking. est-ce ce mariage fait aux gens?"

"C'est ce que voir l'amour vrai croupissent dans les limbes fait aux gens."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Qubine could see David coming back, with Charlotte in tow. This conversation should not be had here, or anywhere at all.

"Tu es fou, et tu as tort. Je ne suis pas amoureux de lui."

"Tu as sang de navet."

"Fermé-la." Qubine raised his voice in warning.

"Mon dieu, j'ai touché une corde sensible."

"Laissé béton!"

Putting their coffees down, David paused and looked from one friend to another. By now he knew that they rarely switched to the dead language, and it was even rarer for Qubine to shout. But before he could ask, Charlotte spoke, looking pointedly at her brother.

"You need to stop insulting turnips."

Qubine gathered himself, though he knew his face was flushed. "He doesn't even know what a turnip is."

He could see David thinking, trying to find the right way to react to the situation, and trying to catch his eye. Unsure what Jean Paulet might say next, all Qubine wanted to do now was just walk away. This wasn't about cowardice at all, but he had to walk away.

"Well, if you two are done discussing how to throw a surprise party for me," David slid into his seat and pushed cups of coffee at his friends. "Let's do a toast."

David was gracious enough to ignore the conversation he was left out of, and take pity on him. Qubine breathed a sigh of relief.

Later on, Jean Paulet said he had to go home for dinner, and David was keen to test out his lift pass and give his brother a surprise visit, so they all went up to Chandelier.

"Well, see you again soon then. Don't be a turnip, hmm?"

Qubine decided he hated Jean Paulet today.

He and David walked in the other direction, towards their homes. Qubine undid his waistcoat, flicked open the buttons on his shirt collar and pulled his hair band off.

"Are you okay? It's not usual for you to let JP get to you."

"I'm fine. It's just been a long week."

"Take some time off. Nothing can be so urgent that you need to make yourself ill doing it."

Qubine wondered if he really looked so tired that even David had to comment on it. "I won't be working tonight."

"I mean more like a few days, or maybe a week."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You told me you've been working on something for eight years. Surely an extra few days won't hurt."

David was searching his face again. His eyes resolutely on the street before them, Qubine made sure he gave nothing away. Not after all this time. A few words from Jean Paulet weren't going to shake him.

On the quieter side of Level 3, away from the bustling streets, Paris and Pater's manors were close enough to each other that they could be considered neighbours. Stopping at the point where their paths split, Qubine finally looked at his friend again.

What if Jean Paulet was right?

"Just out of curiosity, David, where do you consider 'home' now?" Qubine asked. "Here, Ebel, or where you came from?"

David tensed visibly.

"If there is anything you want to talk about, you can have as many of my time slots as you want. I'm also free tonight."

Qubine couldn't be any clearer than that. He waited, but no answer came.

 _Give me time. There's nothing I wouldn't tell you_ , Qubine was told before by David himself.

That was wrong. And Jean Paulet was wrong. Qubine was the son of the woman who ruined David's life, after all.

"I don't know," David finally said with a defeated smile, addressing the question at face value. "That's a tough one."

"Well, I'm sure Paris would be happy to see you in this home."

David laughed, and they parted ways.

 

In bed, Qubine thought about dark skin and light hair and grey eyes. The way those lips would press together firmly when deep in thought. The frown that appeared when peering into the scope of a gun. Every time they touched, from a casual hand on the shoulder to a full embrace. The timbre of his voice. The rise and fall of his chest. His heat. His smell.

Jean Paulet was right about Qubine, but wrong about David.

David could not even trust him, how could he possibly love him?


	21. Platonic

[AR1140, summer/autumn]

The light from the sculpture illuminated the room, drawing glowing and fading patches on the walls and ceiling. Night was turning into day and David had not been able to sleep.

At Paris's, he had planned to bring the topic up at a later date but his brother mentioned that there was no pressure for David to go anywhere, hinting that he knew and accepted David's wish to stay at Ebel. It wasn't something David had expected to hear from his brother, and it was truly a relief to know that Paris understood what he needed. Unless he could find work that paid well enough for him to live in Chandelier, and that work could take the edge off him the way hunter work could, a move would be counter-productive. Anyway, now that he was allowed to travel freely, he could see Paris and his friends more often. The journey was short, it wasn't a huge hassle.

If home was where the heart was, then Chandelier was home for him, without a doubt. He couldn't care less about its bright lights and brilliant music, but his family and friends were there. Qubine was there, in his mad world of tests and experiments that was, David was sure, saving Basel behind the scenes. He would love to be able to live there again, and he probably could, seeing how he managed to do it for years before the exile. But everyone had grown up and had their own lives to lead, he couldn't lean on them for support anymore. So, tempting as it was to beg for a sofa at Pater's and spend his days being a bit closer to what he couldn't have, he would stay where he was until he was ready.

And he wasn't ready yet. Two days ago at Royotia was the first time he shot a living thing in a week, having turned down a couple of jobs so that he could test himself. By the end of the week his need became so powerful he couldn't stay still, like the way it used to be some of the days back in Chandelier and he couldn't tell anyone why.

He still couldn't tell Qubine, now.

He covered his eyes with the back of his wrist, thinking about Qubine's question earlier in the night. He thought he had been waiting for this, so that he could finally tell Qubine everything, but the opportunity was right there and he balked. Coward. He didn't have the faith that his friend could accept him as he was. Qubine would never believe what David had to say about his late mother. And what if he wanted proof, and asked to see the other side of David? What if this killed their friendship, and they became just a scientist and a subject of interest?

Damn. What was he thinking? Everything else aside, Qubine would never become like his mother.

David swung his legs off his bed, got up, then decided to get something to drink and clear his head. It wasn't as if he was going to fall asleep any time soon.

Passing by the telephone, he paused, sat down, and dialled a number. It was the small hours of the morning and he wasn't sure what he was hoping for, but if the workshop was empty it wasn't as if it would wake anyone up.

To his surprise, it was answered after the sixth ring. "Yes?"

"What? Why are you working? You said you're taking the night off."

"David." There was some rustling. "You're calling to check on me at this hour of the day?"

"No. But what if I did?"

"Then you are mad," Qubine said. "I couldn't sleep. I guess I just don't know how to enjoy time off."

David wasn't surprised in the slightest. "You need to be banned from that place and the library for a few days. Get your body clock to reset."

"Perhaps." Qubine chuckled. "Now isn't a good time to talk, actually. I have the aftermath of a minor explosion to take care of."

"What? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, though I am now considering your suggestion of banning myself from here until my concentration returns, in case I accidentally destroy years' worth of work. But before that, there is a mess to clean up."

He better let Qubine get on with it, then. But before that, "actually, I called to apologise about earlier. I remember what I said to you before but I..." David didn't know what to say. "...I'm sorry."

"I don't need to know your life story to be your friend, David. I just thought you might have wanted an opening. If you don't want to tell, then we'll drop this permanently."

"Ah..." This was exactly what David wanted, but he didn't feel any better for it.

"This is terrible timing, but I must go."

"Of course. Sorry for calling you in the middle of things."

"Call me whenever you like, I don't mind." said Qubine. "Talk to you later."

The line went dead. Smiling, David put down the phone, and sighed. Call him whenever he liked? Qubine sure knew how to make a man happy. Not that he would even be aware of it, but David wasn't picky over small details.

To know that Qubine didn't hold anything against him for being so disingenuous was a relief, but as David listened to those words, he could see that door that he had kept open all these years, just in case, closing before his eyes. Perhaps it was better this way, he was tired from hoping he would one day gather the courage to say something, and it wasn't fair to keep Qubine waiting.

To tolerate him this far, Qubine was a patient man. To close that door for David, he was a kind man. David could only hope that one day he could repay everything, somehow.

 

It was one of those "should I say something?" moments, which normally didn't happen to him, but this was a special case. But then the other side spotted him, so ignoring was not an option anymore.

David waited until he saw a familiar smile before making his approach, just in case this wasn't who he thought it was. "Rhagoh."

"David," said Rhagoh, his face lighting up, "how are you? What are you doing up here? _How_ did you get up here?"

"Well, they wouldn't let me use the lift," David cocked his head towards the core lift just yards away, "so I took the stairs..."

Briefly he explained how his unspoken and legally dubious travel ban was lifted. Rhagoh seemed genuinely delighted by the news.

"So what are you here for today?"

"Just a wander. I haven't been up here for two years." Save Christmas at Square Garden, the night he climbed up the wall of Rhagoh's house, and last night, when both Qubine's and Paris's kindness made him feel very small and unworthy.

"That's nice."

"How've you been?"

Rhagoh put his hands in his pockets and shrugged in a way that reminded David a bit of Rush. "I'm fine... nothing's really changed. But I'm quite happy actually. We're learning to understand and compromise."

"Good to know."

"And I guess nothing has changed for you either." Rhagoh softened his voice a little. "The day we broke up, something else happened, am I right? You still have that look in your eyes."

Running into Rhagoh had reminded David of his missing quartz. David copied him and shrugged. "I'm learning to live with it. We all do."

It was an awkward moment, Rhagoh wanting to comfort David over an issue he had no idea about, and not quite sure how to go about it — it would have been easier if they separated on bad terms, but as things were, any form of touch might be suggestive. David chuckled first, and shook his head, reassuring his ex-partner that he was absolutely fine.

And then Rhagoh had to go, so David moved on, hoping he could shake the air of melancholy and the thoughts on his quartz.

He had no particular destination in mind, but before he realised, he was heading towards his old home, his legs guided by habit. The walk was along tree-lined streets and grassy fields with flowers — baby's breath, the same sort as those at the Forest of Idols, except not surrounded by deadly monsters, something that would make anyone from below jealous. A long time ago Qubine told him those flowers were one of the few surviving varieties. If more different ones could be cultivated, then it would benefit the insects that fed on them, sparking a chain reaction. The end result would be that the whole ecosystem would, for the lack of a better word, blossom. It was key to improving the environment and quality of food on Basel.

David's response to that was "is that why you have a greenhouse in your garden?", and Qubine told him he didn't have time to personally work on the project, but there was a team employed whose work he supervised. A few years later, at Jean Paulet and Emmy's wedding, a new breed of flowers was seen for the first time, unveiled without fanfare. That was the sort of man Qubine was.

And there he was.

David stopped and looked again. It wasn't his imagination. Qubine was out of his workshop, making good on his word to attempt to have a break. Strolling on the grass, he had the family dog with him. It must be a treat for Lassie Doo to get walked by Qubine.

It would probably be better to let Qubine have time to himself after practically hounding him for a week. David took a step back, then turned around, going back the way he came. He didn't get far before he found Lassie Doo beside him, tail swishing and brushing his leg. This was a dog that loved family, tolerated friends and hated strangers, as far as he knew, so he couldn't tell why it decided to come to him. He looked from dog to owner, confused.

"Maybe he missed you."

"I didn't think he'd even remember me. Is this even the same dog? He looks slimmer and more agile than I recall."

"He and Pater are both still on their diets," said Qubine. "Here to see Paris?"

"Just walking around. Going up to the top later; I haven't been there for a long time," said David, embarrassed both by not having said hi and by the unintentional meeting, on top of the late night phone call they already had. "I'm not stalking you, promise."

Qubine snickered at that. "I hope you are smarter than to try to do that in broad daylight."

"Yes, well. Now that you've spotted me, I should high tail it out of here." David wriggled his fingers. "I am capable of not bugging you for a day. See you."

He hadn't taken two steps, leaving Lassie Doo and its owner behind him, before he heard Qubine's voice again.

"Actually, this level of idleness is beginning to irritate me. And the sunlight is burning holes in my retina. I'm going to look for shade and something to drink, if you want to join me."

David couldn't say no.

They ended up at a cafe, sitting outside under a cream-coloured parasol, Lassie Doo at their feet. David felt slightly bad about this until Qubine told him to see it as scouting out the rivals. It turned out the emphasis of the place was its desserts, so he ordered two sundaes before Qubine could get a word in.

Qubine gave him a look.

"Think of the fat content," said David. To be fair, Qubine had put on some weight since David pointed out the problem last time. "And cut down on the caffeine; stimulants won't help your sleep pattern."

"I like my stimulants." At the thought of not having tea, Qubine sighed heavily.

"Really? I thought it's been years since you were last stimulated."

Qubine snorted as if to say, "so what?"

Their desserts were served. They dug in, Qubine suddenly laughing and shaking his head.

"What?" David asked.

"Here we are, outside a cafe on a sunny day, eating soft serve, watching people walk by. There's even a dog at our feet. How twee."

"Leisure is pleasure, mon ami."

Qubine gave David a look of mock disgust.

"You do need intellectual stimulation, don't you."

"I just don't like it when my brain goes idle."

"Well, I've got a question for you," said David. Qubine leaned forward a little, looking interested, so he carried on. "You know about Forsaken in Level 6? Everybody who lived there suddenly died."

Qubine sat back again, taking his sundae with him. "Sudden Death Syndrome. That town's official name is Veyriel. If you want to know what this syndrome is, it's not something I can tell you."

Most likely a large corner of a quartz vein got disturbed, David thought, and some stones were destroyed. That, or Zenith had a bad day. "I was more wondering what you'd do if you knew you could just suddenly die any minute."

An eyebrow raised, Qubine looked at David as though he had been asked something dumb. "There is no 'if' in that question. We could all suddenly die, it's a fact. Statistics have shown that that the syndrome can affect anyone at any time."

David fell silent. Of course. His quartz had gone missing, but he was just the same as everyone else. What had he been doing all this time, thinking he was a special snowflake?

"So how you live your life now is based on the knowledge that it could all suddenly end?"

"I don't think about it much. This is Basel. Things that should be predictable are unpredictable, and vice versa. I prioritise according to my own desires, not according to something out of my control."

Whether Qubine was enlightened, or very logical, David couldn't decide. But what he said made so much sense David wished they had this conversation sooner.

"Ah, your desires. I've heard about them."

"Yes you have. I hope that satisfied your curiosity."

"When it comes to you, I'm insatiable."

Qubine snorted. "How come you are asking about Forsaken?"

A bit of sprinkle stuck itself to Qubine's lower lip. David pointed at it and Qubine wiped it off.

"I just read a bit about it recently."

"Don't let it bother you. Statistically-speaking, the chance of developing the syndrome is minute."

"You say that, but my head isn't as good with logic as yours."

"Then put it this way: I have a good feeling you won't suddenly drop dead."

Those words, coming from someone who never just "had a good feeling" about things, were far more comforting than they should be. The mere knowledge that Qubine would say something so illogical just to make him feel better, well, made him feel better.

They finished their sweets, then travelled upwards, Lassie Doo in tow. At the very top of Basel stood the Basilica in the centre, the Square Garden on one side, and Aetersyl at the other. Not that they could gain access to Aetersyl anyway, but David steered them straight towards the Basilica so that they would not end up on that side.

The doors to the Basilica were closed but a few faithfuls were gathered outside, as if just being nearer the building meant they were closer to god. David and Qubine found a stone bench in the courtyard and sat down so that Lassie Doo could take a rest too; the long steps leading up here were hard work for the dog.

"That got some exercise into both of you," said David, bending down to stroke Lassie Doo's fur.

Qubine eyed the dog. "I'm not the one out of breath here."

"And you're getting used to fresh air and sunlight?"

"Of course not. My workshop is completely windowless. This is a massive shock to my delicate system."

David smiled, and looked around them. He must be the biggest atheist in Basel but he did enjoy being here, with its breezes of fresh air and a magnificent view. And ever since he was told — by Qubine again, of course — that the shadow the Basilica casted actually worked as a sundial, this place changed from quite nice to really pretty cool to him.

There was a little bit of commotion as a priest arrived and he allowed the believers to enter the building with him. Then the huge doors shut again, the great echo they created audible even from the outside.

"Qubine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but why aren't you a cardinal?"

Qubine gave the question some serious thought.

"Pater is more suited to the task."

"Because you're not religious? But your mother was a scientist too. It doesn't look like faith is necessary, you could just go through the motions."

"What Basel needs are leaders who are likeable and popular, people like Pater and Jean Paulet. They are both hardworkers too, which is a bonus, but leaders don't really have to be — all they need to do is inspire, the actual work can be left to the team behind them. I could just go through the motions, like you said, but I would rather be working on a new power source than giving sermons about things I don't even believe in."

If he put it that way, maybe it made sense. "You talked Rowen into picking Pater?"

Qubine nodded. "It's worked out well for us both. He thrives on his job, and I get to work in my cave. Everyone wins."

"I talked to Rowen too, about me and Paris."

"You did?"

"Complications aside, the thought of being a religious leader makes my skin crawl."

"Same here. When was this?"

"Talking to Rowen? Soon after you talked to him, I think. He mentioned something about older brothers not taking up the mantle."

"That man could have kept his mouth shut."

"No harm done," David said, giving Qubine a friendly pat on the back, slightly giddy about the fact that they did the same thing all those years ago when it came to cardinalship. "I'm glad neither of us are cardinals. We can leave that sort of thing to JP."

Qubine smirked. "That moron loves it."

"By the way, are you two okay?"

It took a few moments for Qubine to realise David was referring to what happened at the cafe, when he got so irritated by those undecipherable words that he shouted back. "He was being nothing but his usual self, so I wanted to snap his neck, also as usual."

It sounded like they were okay, then. It was most likely something about him, David knew, otherwise they wouldn't have switched language or they would at least explain to him afterwards what happened. But he was too old to throw a tantrum over something like this, so he would just have to trust that it wasn't anything he needed to know.

Lassie Doo was ready to go again, and the sun was high, so they probably shouldn't stay out here too long.

"Come on. Let's go before you get sunburnt."

 

Back home, Leanne and Zephyr were watching TV. David walked around them to water the Christmas tree near the window, which was still going strong after one and a half years.

"I'm thinking about putting it in my room for a bit, the light's better," said Leanne.

"Sure, why not."

Something caught Leanne's attention. She shifted herself towards David's direction, TV forgotten. "Hey, where've you been?"

"Just a walkabout. Why?"

"You've been on a date! You've got that happy date look on your face!" Her expression turned sly. "Who was it?"

The day did feel like that at some points but it wasn't the truth. "I haven't."

"Come on! Who was it?"

David was about to deny again, but Zephyr opened his mouth, eyes still fixed on the TV screen.

"Qubine?"

Leanne whipped around to look at Zephyr, and then back at David. "Seriously?"

Zephyr had caught on. Maybe the regular lunches were a bit telltale of his feelings. David hoped he wasn't blushing. It must be pretty obvious since Zephyr wasn't the kind to make comments usually. "I was with him, but it wasn't a date."

"Of course it wasn't," said Zephyr. "You guys are totally in deni— I mean totally platonic."

If only that was true. David probably would give up sex for Qubine if that was what it took. He decided to leave the room before the two formed a tag team, because he would die if he said any more, implicated himself and then either of them told Pater about it. People who were in happy relationships could be so nosy sometimes.

 

A few months weren't a long time but David had got to know the workers from Royotia quite well already. They were all good people, hand-picked by a man named Torgal, an ex-military who now worked at the guild in town. He was impressively tall, rather quiet — at least in the beginning — and very reliable. With his range of skills, he could easily have a great job at a higher level but he had chosen to live in Royotia "for personal reasons". Because of other obligations, he was only going to work for Charlotte for another few weeks, and then David would have to take over his tasks entirely.

It wasn't something David looked forward to. People management was something he had a talent in, something David discovered to his own surprise, but he enjoyed Torgal's company a lot, although the man never smiled and pretended to dislike small talk. It would be sad to not work with Torgal anymore, but maybe then they could meet up on a personal basis and be friends rather than coworkers.

Things were lively today, there were all sorts of monsters to kill and David got to stretch a few muscles. It didn't affect the harvest since by now the workers trusted David enough to just keep working, and Torgal nodded in approval as David checked everyone off the list.

"If you have a moment, we need to talk." said Torgal.

"What is it?"

"I've been in touch with a friend of yours." Torgal lifted his hand to about his chest height. "About this tall, shoulder length hair, dark blond. A boy around your age."

He hadn't been a boy for years but David didn't worry about that detail. "Qubine? How do you know him?"

"He contacted me." Torgal coughed. "And I helped him arrange the incident last week, when you rescued Cardinal Paris. I am not supposed to tell but I believe you should know you have a friend who would go that far for you."

David's mind blanked, and then clicked back into gear. Yes, that sounded exactly like Qubine. That bastard, pretending to know nothing about the whole thing at all back in the cafe last week.

"You did that? I can't believe you're only telling me this now!"

Torgal looked unrepentant. "It would not have worked so well if you knew beforehand."

"I... I'm going to talk with you about this another time. Don't you think you're off the hook yet." David shoved the paperwork at Torgal. "But I need to run. There's something important I need to do."

He ran towards the lift. It was a long trek from Royotia to Chandelier, but he had waited so long, what was another few hours?

He had a good feeling about this.

 

It was the old housekeeper who answered the door. David was worried that she wouldn't recognise him, but she smiled and cooed over him right away. It looked like she wanted to chat but David was getting antsy so he stated his purpose and she let him go.

He found Qubine in a study. But rather than reading, he was crouched behind a telescope that was pointing out a window, and jotting something down in a notepad on the floor beside him. Rather than startling him, David knocked on the open door first.

"If you're looking for your star from the heavens, I'm right here."

Qubine looked at him, amused. "Oh yes, there you are, my symbol of eternal happiness."

David's heart swelled a bit. "Seen anything interesting up there?"

"Nothing in particular. It's just a good day for this sort of thing. Clear sky." Qubine stood up and dusted his knees, then went to the desk where a tray had been set down, with teapot and cups. "This 'time off' palaver has reminded me of too many interests I don't have enough time for. It's not good for me. Tea?"

"Yes please."

Qubine opened the teapot, checked its contents and then added more water from a flask. "What brought you here?"

"I found out that apparently I have you to thank for this." David showed his lift pass.

They stared at each other. There was a long pause, then Qubine's attention returned to the task at hand. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you don't." David put the pass away. "But I need to say thank you anyway, you cunning, scheming mastermind."

Tea made, Qubine passed a cup over. "I still don't know what you're talking about, but whatever."

Qubine, genius at everything and master of denial. David smiled to himself, sipped the tea and then put it down.

"So, since you're a man with too many interests already, it wouldn't hurt to add another one, I guess?"

Over the brim of his cup, Qubine narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "You have something to suggest?"

"I do indeed," said David, taking Qubine's cup from him and putting it down. The man now looked both suspicious and confused. David steadied himself; he had never thought he would one day be here, saying the words he was about to say. Then again, he had never thought that he could love Qubine even more than he already did, until today, and he felt like he had a serious chance at happiness. Jean Paulet was right. Zephyr was right. They were meant to be together.

"So I know that the two most important things in your life are science and books. But I was thinking, since I'm practically your romance already, that I could be the third thing. If I could be your actual romance. Because you're important to me and I can't keep ignoring my feelings anymore."

Qubine became very, very still, looking as though he couldn't understand a single word he had just heard.

"Please go out with me, Qubine."

David waited, not daring to breathe. Of course he would receive a positive reply. There was no reason he would be turned down. Every single sign, every little detail told him he would at least be given a chance. He was liked. He was even loved, he was sure of it.

Then, just before Qubine opened his mouth to speak, his face softened, becoming sincere. There was none of the cynicism or sarcasm he was known for, just a heartbreaking gentleness that lifted David's soul and then let it fall again. And at that moment David knew what the answer was. He spoke even before Qubine did.

"It's fine."

Qubine lowered his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone following this story? How's it so far? Would love to hear from you.


	22. Needs

[AR1140, summer/autumn]

Rush could tell something really awful had happened. He showed up at the bar very quickly, cursing when he found David with a glass of something in his hand.

"Dave! Man, don't start without me, ever!" he sat down on the sofa next to his friend, snatching the drink away from him. "Is this your first one?"

"First one. And you're right, sorry." David tilted his head back into the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. "This will be the last time, you have my word."

At least the arena was only a few minutes away. If David started getting weird like last time — though that was a long time ago now — Rush could just drag him there and let him work it out of his system. But he decided to worry about that later.

"I just realised that today is exactly two years since I moved away from Chandelier. I can't believe this is how I'm celebrating."

"What the hell happened?"

"Just a little upset."

Right. Because "a little upset" would make David drink. "If you tell me I can probably help."

"Not unless you can change someone's heart."

Wait. Oh... not good. "He's seeing someone?"

"No, he just doesn't want to see me."

That meant David told him. After god knows how many years it'd been already? "Fine, have this back." Rush let David take his drink back. "You guys are still friends, right?"

David stared at the alcohol for a while, then put it down. He didn't want it now. "I don't know. But please don't say bad things about him to make me feel better, because I don't hate him."

It would be hard to badmouth Qubine, with the things Rush knew. But he had to find something to say.

"Just... don't dwell on it too much. I'm pushing 30 and I'm still single."

"You're turning 30?"

"In a few months."

"You don't look it," David said. "You had a few relationships in the years since I've known you, though."

Rush did a quick count. "Three. All went tits-up because they couldn't understand my life."

Rush's explanation made David laugh. "This puts me in a great position then. We understand each other."

"I'm flattered but sorry, my answer is still 'no'."

"Two rejections in one day." David claimed his drink back and finished it.

"I want children in the future. And c'mon, I don't wanna be your rebound." Rush had always thought if David really tried he could change any man's mind. And this was why he would always say no. "Seriously though, don't you think you need people who don't know the old you and love you for who you are now?"

"Qubine doesn't know."

Well... yes and no. "I mean people who don't even know there is something they don't know."

"I'm not sure," said David. "What had changed will never return to normal, and the awareness never leaves. Every night when I turn the lights off I'm reminded of it. Some days it puts me on edge and I can't stand to be with anyone except those I truly trust."

Rush frowned and put an arm on David's shoulders.

"I guess I got a little too optimistic. It's good that he said no... what would I do if what happened to Rhagoh happens to him? I don't even know what I was thinking." David reached for his glass and realised it was empty. "Just one more, would that be all right?"

"One." Rush waved at the bar, pointing at David's glass, knowing he would regret this later. "Dave, if I could find that bastard I'd kill him and then kill him again for fucking you up like this. Sullivan, I mean. Not Qubine."

"I know. Thank you."

"In the meantime, you'll find someone who loves and understands you."

"Maybe if Zephyr turned." David laughed again, his voice still clear and his eyes sharp despite the alcohol in his over-sensitive system. In fact, past experience told Rush his friend was going to get sharper yet. "I'm not truly desperate to have someone. You probably won't agree but being single and taking pleasure whenever I want is something I see as an advantage. If I didn't know the things I know perhaps I would be a different person, but that goes for so many things. But the truth is I don't _need_ love. I just thought... I should give it a try."

In Rush's opinion, David needed love more than anyone in Basel. And there was no way to prove what happened with Rhagoh was David's fault. But David knew things he didn't, and he knew stuff David had no idea about — shit, he hated keeping secrets — and what this all boiled down to was that he really was no in position to judge or argue, and that wasn't what David called him here for. The guy only needed him to listen, drag him away if necessary, and press a switch if he really had to.

A barmaid came over with a new drink. Rush drained half of it before passing it to David. "So it hasn't worked out, but I don't think you've done anything wrong. Everyone likes to know they're loved, right?"

"Even if they don't feel the same? Wouldn't that be a burden?"

"It's Qubine. He can handle anything."

David sipped at his new drink and didn't respond.

"You aren't feeling guilty, are you?"

David gave the question a moment's thought. "Yes. It's not rational, but I can't help it." He took a deep breath. "The way he looked... I just keep thinking: _what have I done?_ "

"You wanted something and took a risk. It's called 'being human'. You'll both get over it soon."

"At least I have you to talk to. He... he doesn't talk to anyone about personal things. And if he really needs an opinion, he comes to me."

"How about Jean Paulet?"

"I don't think he would want JP to know about this. JP tends to get too involved, it will only be stress over something he can do nothing about."

Rush sighed. "I'll make up some excuse to go over there and see if I can find out how he's doing. Now stop worrying about him."

"Sorry, I'll be quiet now."

Giving up, Rush slapped David's head with the back of his hand. He was probably going to have to tell Paris about this. Or did he? It wouldn't make any difference to anyone, except maybe Paris was in a better position to go and ask Qubine if his reply to David had anything to do with what happened all those years ago.

But even if it was because of that, what could they do, really?

"Dave?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you'll ever tell him about what happened to you?"

"His mother's crimes are not his. I wouldn't be able to bear it if he starts feeling guilty or treat me differently."

"So if you did go out with him, you'd still have to keep the secret."

"I had chances to tell, but I kept chickening out," said David. "I thought maybe one day, when we are all older. When things are just a distant memory and I become so familiar to him that he shouldn't be afraid of me no matter what I am made of, then I can tell him."

"He won't freak out. Paris and I hadn't."

"Well, it no longer matters now. I've messed up." The glass in David's hand was empty. He put some money on the table, undid his holster belt and shoved it at Rush. "I need to leave."

That was sudden, even though Rush was expecting it. Clutching the weapons, he followed him out of the bar, relieved that David had enough sense to know when he was hitting his limit and how to deal with it.

The first time, the only other time Rush had ever seen David like this, David didn't know his body could no longer handle alcohol. Fortunately Rush managed to get themselves out of the city and into Silver Canyon quickly enough so the resulting bloodbath involved no human deaths, just a trail of dead wolves and walkers. Rush had lent him one of his guns back then, after realising David needed to _kill things_ and he would use his bare hands if he had to. It was a dangerous choice, but it turned out to be the right choice. After that time, David promised Rush he would never drink again without supervision. It turned out he decided it was simply easier if he didn't touch alcohol again for as long as he could. Until now.

Once they arrived at the arena, David slapped some money on the counter, snatchced his weapons back from Rush and stalked inside the gate. The staff stared at the money, then at Rush, who told them to release the biggest thing the cash could afford.

It was just like last time, except David was now even stronger, even faster. Rush couldn't tell if David was in full control, but he was fully focused and aware of what he was doing. Standing just inside of the gate, he watched David let himself go, moving at speeds, jumping to heights that no human should be capable of. After each monster died, Rush told the staff to use the prize money to bring on the next one. Soon they caught on and the killing became non-stop. Corpses littered the floor and David didn't care, moving on top of them as if it was the easiest thing in the world. There was grace to his movement that Rush had never seen anywhere before, so rapid, yet so fluid it seemed languid, almost frozen in time.

When Rush knew David was finally about to run out of bullets, he told the arena staff they were done. David emptied his clips, put his guns away and smiled thankfully at Rush.

"Well, shit," Rush muttered under his breath.

He had never been so turned on in his life.

David had hardly broken a sweat. The smell of gunpowder and smoke seemed to breathe from all his pores, and he looked more relaxed than he had been for a long time.

"Did you have to use all your ammo? Now I gotta walk you back." Rush adjusted his clothes, annoyed at himself. The hell, man? Watching a bro go on a killing spree was a kink?

Catching the irritated tone, David apologised immediately. "Sorry."

"No I mean—" Rush couldn't explain that right here. He sighed. "Feeling better? Let's go."

They headed back in silence, stopping outside David's house.

"Go home, have a hot shower, go to bed. Tomorrow's a new day," said Rush, his hands pushed deep inside his coat pockets, one foot kicking at the ground. "I'll try to check on him, but I'm sure he's fine."

David's brows furrowed slightly. Rush's impatience was obvious. "I'm sorry about calling you out all of a sudden. I hadn't even asked if you had other plans."

Rush shrugged. "It's fine." It wasn't as if there was anyone else David could turn to at this sort of time; Rush was the only one who knew the right combination of secrets.

"Well," David looked down briefly, his smile taking on an edge of melancholy. "I've made you waste a whole night, sorry. I can tell you're in a hurry, so please go, I'll be fine. I'll go to bed like you said and..."

"It's not a waste of my time. Man, I know you're depressed, but don't say things like that."

"I don't want you to be annoyed at me. I've already lost one friend today."

Rush stepped closer so that he could lower his voice. Shit, David still smelled like a battlefield. "Listen. You're never a waste of time, and I didn't have anything to do tonight. If I look like I need to run, that's because—" oh man, this was awkward. But he felt no shame about it and it'd definitely make David feel better about himself, so Rush drew a deep breath and carried on. "it's because all I can think of when I look at you right now is 'I wanna tap that so hard' and dammit Dave, I want to have children some day."

David stiffened, taken by surprise. He tried to look at Rush but Rush wouldn't meet his eyes. "But you—"

"I need to get away from you so that I can quietly have my crisis somewhere." Gunpowder. Rush never knew he had a thing for that before. But it wasn't really the gunpowder was it, it was his movements and his face and oh shit, stop thinking.

"Rush, if you want..."

That was the trouble. He did want. "One, I don't wanna risk not liking women later. Two, it's a bad day for you and I won't take advantage. Three... I don't have a three."

David chuckled, tipping his head gently to one side. "Well, you know how I am about these things. I'm not looking for permanent arrangements anymore. If you want me, it'd be my honour. I understand your concern, but you wouldn't be taking advantage."

Three... there must be a three. Because David just easily negated reason two and reason one really wasn't strong enough.

"But I always believe that if you have doubts about something, then you shouldn't do it. So I'll leave you alone now. Thank you for keeping me safe tonight." David turned around and walked up the steps to his front door.

Strong, and graceful. The way he moved, back in the arena. The way he moved now, the lazy stretch of his muscles, precise yet careless. The curve of his neck. The way he smelled, maddening even under the veil of harsh gun smoke. Rush hadn't noticed these before, not on this level anyway. If he wanted him and David liked being wanted, then what was wrong with that?

Rush was right all along: David could change any man's mind. Maybe with the exception of Qubine.

Fuck having kids. If it all went horribly right from here on, he would just have to adopt.

David paused when he noticed Rush's shadow behind him, said nothing and unlocked the door.

 

"I bet there was something wrong with that second drink. The bartender added something."

"You mean a drug of some kind? If that's your excuse, I am terribly hurt."

"No no, she was eyeing you for a bit but I don't think she went that far. Just something that makes things extra amazing." Rush considered getting up, but decided the bed was very nice right now. "Cos if that was normal, then my future wife and kids are fading away real fast and I regret nothing."

It was daybreak. The sunlight was murky at best, struggling to filter through the clouds and David's curtains. It wasn't to the light that Rush woke up to, but David leaving the bed to take a look outside his room. When he noticed Rush waking up he asked him if he slept well.

To Rush's roundabout compliment, David shook his head and laughed. His hair was still messy from Rush's playing the night before.

"I'm glad. I enjoyed it too."

It looked like David actually meant it, Rush noted with a sigh of relief. He felt rather like a boy after his first time with a girlfriend. Sure, with a guy it was much easier to tell if something was working for him or not, but it was always nice to have some confirmation.

"By the way, I don't think Zephyr will come down until we've both had the chance to shower, so if you want to clean up, don't worry about him."

Rush grimaced. He'd forgotten about Zephyr. He was in the living room when Rush went in with David, and more-or-less watched them go into the bedroom together.

"Well, this is going to be awkward."

"I wouldn't worry. I very rarely have anyone staying over, he knows I don't make a habit of it. Also, I took a peek outside and he'd dead-bolted the connecting door."

"The what?"

"This building is split into two halves, remember? Zephyr and I live in this side, and there is a pair of doors that connects the two sides. If any of us dead-bolts it, it means it's private time and the other side aren't welcome. I would have done it except we were in a bit of a hurry and I forgot."

"Huh."

"Zephyr can seem rash sometimes but he's actually very nice and accommodating."

Rush couldn't say which was more of a surprise, Zephyr being a good housemate or the fact that David rarely had overnight guests. What was definitely not a surprise was how his arm, as if it had a life of its own, found its way around David's midriff as soon as he sat down on the side of the bed. Wow. He really was on top of and under and behind and inside David last night, all his curiosity and lust satisfied and nope, still no regrets. In fact...

Better not, Rush told himself. He wasn't a kid anymore, if they did it again — ahem, yet again — he wouldn't be functional later at work. And then Paris was going to ask and Rush would have to come up with something that wasn't "I slept with you brother last night and it was fucking amazing. Pun intended."

Just as Rush made up his mind to choose shower rather than debauchery, the phone in the living room rang. A solid thud and five seconds later, they could faintly hear Zephyr answering the call.

"Hello? ...He's still asleep I think. ...Sure, I guess he has your number? ...No worries."

A moment later, a note appeared under the door, followed by the sound of Zephyr's soft steps back up the stairs. The note said "Call Qubine".

"Dave, you shower first, then call him back."

"Thank you."

 

"David, I think I called too early in the morning and woke up your housemate. Please give him my apologies."

"I will. But Zephyr doesn't mind, so don't worry about it."

"I see. David, I did some thinking last night and looking back, I realised how irritating and hurtful I must've been with my incessant teasing, and I probably sent you the wrong signal. I'm very sorry. There is no excuse I can give you; I've been an inconsiderate prat."

"I didn't think you've been hurtful, but let's go with that, because I quite enjoyed hearing you call yourself a prat."

"Can we put it behind us?"

"Of course."

"Good. So I need your help with something..."

"I dread to think what this might be..."

"...I'd like to find out the availability of some mechanical parts, could you ask at a scrapyard for me?"

"Dare I ask what this is for? Part of your world domination plans?"

"Not this time. Just trying to reconstruct a design from an old text. I need a lot of parts and can't get hold of half of them here for some reason. Can I post the list to you?"

"Of course."

"I would give it to you over lunch, but after a week's break there is a lot to catch up on, so I don't think I can do lunch this week, sorry. And I'm not sure about next week yet, I'll let you know nearer the time."

"That's okay, I understand."

"Thank you. Then, I need to get back work."

"Qubine?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for calling. I'm relieved that we are still friends."

"Likewise."

 

Apparently Qubine sounded just like his usual self on the phone, which made David feel a lot better, and he told Rush that he didn't need to check on Qubine anymore. They were just going to move on.

Arriving at Chandelier for work in the nick of time, Rush ran into Paris at the parking area outside the manor. Paris was pacing and his face looked like the world was coming to an end.

He couldn't have found out about last night, could he? "Hey cardinal, what's the trouble?"

Paris frowned at Rush, the furrows between his brows deep enough to hold a pen with. "I was meant to see Qubine about something today, but he cancelled."

If it was anyone else, it would not be anything worth worrying about. But the mention of Qubine caught Rush's attention. "Yeah?"

"He said he's feeling ill. He never takes time off for illness or anything. The last time he was off sick was back in college and... you remember what happened in 1133."

Rush knew what Paris was referring to even before he finished his sentence. How could he forget? That was when Qubine was deep into his investigation of the Crank Seminary experiments, and his mother died in an "accident". Pater became Cardinal, and Qubine retreated into the shadows.

"I'm not saying this is anything like that but I'm worried about him."

"Maybe he really just isn't feeling well. Happens to everyone."

"I hope so."

Rush swallowed a sigh. He might have sounded like his old self on the phone but Qubine wasn't doing so well, after all. And it wouldn't help anyone if Rush went and told David about this. Yet another secret he was going to have to keep.

Damn, why was it always him?


	23. No Man is an Island

[AR1140, autumn]

David had never found out what the tinkerer's name was; the man hadn't introduced himself at the start and after a while it felt too embarrassing to say "hey, by the way, I don't actually know your name." When David mentioned this to his housemates, it turned out they had the same problem too, and had spent years feeling awkward with the man addressing them by name but them never doing the same in return.

The tinkerer was giving David's body armour a good look, drawing a deep breath through his teeth as he did so. "Good thing you had this on, eh? Must've been some fight."

His voice sounded a lot like Vashyron's, David thought. "Can it be repaired?"

"Well it could, but it's more trouble than it's worth, you're better off getting a new one. And I'm not saying this because Daniel's giving me the look."

They both looked at Daniel, who was at the stall next to them selling all sorts of supplies, including body armour. The old man tugged down the brim of his hat, coughed and turned away.

The body armour was a gift from Paris, so David wanted it fixed despite the tinkerer's advice. For now he could wear Zephyr's old one, which his friend wordlessly hung on his bedroom door handle after they got home from the job that should have been a walk in the park but almost killed David instead.

They said "almost killed", but of course David wasn't going to die from those bullets even if they did hit him. Not that he knew it at the time, but Zephyr's cool reaction to him being shot multiple times in the chest upsetted him a bit, and it was only then that Zephyr realised there was something David didn't know about themselves.

Feeling the exit wound, now scarred over and covered by hair, on Zephyr's scalp was both morbid and fascinating, though at least David didn't freak out the way Roeas did, according to Zephyr. When Zephyr told David a long time ago that Vashyron shot him in the head, he actually wasn't joking.

Even if he couldn't die, it didn't mean David should go around getting himself shot. His chest was now black and blue from bruises that were merging into one giant monster bruise, and he guessed maybe a rib had cracked from the impact too, making it so painful that David wished he had not got out of bed this morning.

But the thing was, even a day later, he couldn't say what really happened. When Rush left the morning after he stayed over, he extracted a promise from David that he wouldn't do anything stupid, and David thought his friend was just overreacting. But when that mannequin pointed a gun at him, for a split second he couldn't make himself move away from the firing line. Zephyr came to his rescue, blowing up his enemy so that manufactured limbs scattered everywhere, but that was after David had already been shot.

He really should have listened to Rush. If he did, then this wouldn't have happened and he wouldn't find out about the fact that he couldn't be killed, that he was even less human than he had originally thought. Could he even be considered human at this point? Surely this would make even Paris and Rush recoil in horror. He didn't deserve any of the human things anymore: trust, respect, companionship, love—

"Well?"

Zephyr was home, and he perked up as soon as David walked through the front door.

"They can repair it. Costs an arm and a leg though."

"We can go pick up a few of those mannequin ones?"

David laughed. It occurred to him that Zephyr was worried about him. Because they were friends, of course, but also because he was supposed to set Zephyr a good example. Whatever the circumstances were, David must not crumple. Getting his body armour sorted was a good thing for Zephyr to see, it showed that he wanted to live, that what happened was merely a momentary lapse of concentration rather than a spectacularly poor attempt at suicide.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit; moving really hurts."

"Sure... hold on, Cardinal Jean Paulet called you a while ago."

"What did he say?"

"Not much. I told him you'd be back soon."

David should probably call Jean Paulet back, but he wasn't in the mood for conversation. He thanked Zephyr, then went to his room.

He had left the light sculpture on. Turning it off, he lay down on his bed, only to reach over and turn it back on after a few minutes. It wasn't a good idea, because even though he liked it it did remind him of Qubine. But who was he kidding? With or without the gift, he was still going to think of Qubine anyway.

He had gone through it all in his head, all the reasons that possessed him to do something as stupid as ask Qubine out. He had turned it all over and over and understood where he must have misinterpreted things. Where Qubine was very nice to him because that was just what friends did. Where David took advantage of being the socially competent one, making Qubine think he wouldn't go wrong if he copied or went along with what David did. Where he had kept nudging, hiding behind the facade of playful flirting with someone who was completely impenetrable, and Qubine just didn't know how to tell him to back off.

And Qubine was the one who called to apologise.

He didn't need to think about any of that anymore. Reflection was supposed to help him learn, and avoid repeating the same mistakes, but he didn't think this could ever happen again. He just wished he could stop. Stop thinking. Stop feeling this way. Stop trying to undo what had been done, reaching for the phone and telling Qubine he was only joking and none of it meant anything, sorry. As if he hadn't messed up enough already.

He got up when he heard the front door, barely able to stop himself from wincing. But there wasn't much choice, since he could hear Zephyr answering, followed by Jean Paulet's voice. David got as far as his own bedroom door, and he smiled at his friend and, to his slight surprise, his wife.

With his heels, Jean Paulet didn't have to strain to look over Zephyr's shoulder. "David! I tried calling earlier; we happen to be in the area and thought we'd come and say bonjour!"

Zephyr let them in, then went to make tea.

"What are you down here for?" asked David.

"We had a meeting with a designer — that sweet friend of yours, actually — to see if she can create a range suitable for Emmy. What currently exists for pregnant women is absolutely atrocious, I weep just imagining her having no option but to dress horrendously!"

By Jean Paulet's side, Emmy rolled her eyes affectionately.

"I see." Irina was good with stretch fabrics so she might come up with something creative, David thought whilst holding back a snicker. He considered being a decent host and joining his friends, but going to the tinkerer earlier had really taken it out of him. "You're going to have to forgive me, I'm not feeling very well..."

Jean Paulet gasped. "What? Gosh, get back to bed! I'm sorry we disturbed you!" He took it upon himself to usher David back inside, turning his head briefly towards his wife. "Sit down, ma chérie. You shouldn't go near anyone who is sick."

"Actually, it's not contagious," said David, but he did want to get back in bed anyway so he didn't put up a fight.

Jean Paulet shut the door behind them, then gaped at the room, lit by soft, moving light. When he located its source, he peered at it closely, fascinated.

"Did you catch Qubine's cooties, mon ami?"

"What?"

"I heard he's sick as well. I don't remember either of you ever getting sick, you poor things. Is it a cold? I could get you some medicine." Tearing himself away from the small sculpture for now, Jean Paulet made sure his friend settled in bed. "Ah, I see that you have a double bed. You're a well-prepared man."

Hopefully Qubine was all right. Like Jean Paulet, David couldn't remember Qubine ever being ill. "I haven't caught anything. Just had a rough job and I'm exhausted." And he bought the bed when they moved into this side of the building, not because he was expecting regular bedmates but because to him single beds were for children. But Jean Paulet wouldn't care to listen to that.

"I see." Jean Paulet's attention was drawn, as if inevitably, by the sculpture once more. He extended a hand, but stopped just short of touching it. "David, about this piece..."

"You can play with it if you want. There's a switch in the bottom for the light." David reached for it and casually pressed it into his friend's hands. "Got it from Qubine on my birthday."

The weight of the object surprised Jean Paulet a little, and he held it like it was something incredibly precious. Something about it seemed to have moved him. "From Qubine?"

"He said he made it."

"That damn polymath," Jean Paulet whispered under his breath, his gaze not leaving the object, which he turned in his hands, feeling every facet. "Oh, mon ami, the proof is right here. This sculpture speaks of love, with all abandon." He covered his mouth with a hand, honestly emotional. "This is... he... he loves you so much. I'm not worthy of touching this."

David watched Jean Paulet set the sculpture back on the desk with the greatest respect, his heart twisting from the words he just heard. He didn't understand art, but that didn't matter. "You're wrong, JP."

"This is the most magnificent piece of art I've ever behold! There is so much raw emotion in it, I don't... I don't even know how to begin to explain..."

"Please, stop." David sat up, because that felt less vulnerable than lying down. "I've asked him out. He turned me down."

Jean Paulet was stunned to silence for a few seconds.

"But that's impossible! He loves you!"

"He doesn't. Could you please drop this?"

Jean Paulet looked at David, puzzled, as if he couldn't make sense of what he had just heard. He went down on one knee so that he could see David's face. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." The smile on David's lips was not forced, nor was it strained; his friend's concerned had touched him, and it was always so easy to smile for Jean Paulet, with his pretty face, puppy-like enthusiasm and a sincerity David had never seen from anyone else. "But I'd rather not talk about it. Talking won't change anything."

He allowed Jean Paulet to pull him into a hug, despite the pain in his muscles and ribs.

"I know this doesn't help you right now, but he does love you, in his own way. And so do I."

"I know. Thank you."

 

"I'm sorry, Master Qubine said he would not receive visitors."

The young woman sounded quite fearful, but she was relaying the rejection to a cardinal, after all. And Cardinal Jean Paulet knew exactly when to abuse his authority or, rather, take advantage of the fact that some people were too timid to say no to him.

"He will see me, whether he likes it or not. Lead the way."

He wasn't entirely surprised when he was shown to the workshop rather than any other part of the manor. Qubine might or might not be sick, but working was his way to take his mind off things. In fact, working was his approach to everything.

The young woman pressed a button on a fancy little panel on the wall next to the door. Intercom. Really, that Qubine. "Master, the Cardinal..."

Behind her, Jean Paulet raised his voice. No point getting her into trouble. "Mon ami! Please don't tell me your work is more important than your friends?"

The sigh that came through the speakers was soft and static-filled. After a few moments, the door opened. Qubine looked just like his usual self. He still remained the only man Jean Paulet knew who could work a lab coat.

Jean Paulet thanked the young woman and went inside. By now Qubine must know that there was no use keeping him out, because he would just have the conversation over the intercom — or shout through the door if Qubine shut it off — and that really was not good for anyone.

It was the first time Jean Paulet set foot in the workshop, sometimes referred to as the "cave" from which Qubine would "emerge" as if he was some wild animal. But jokes aside, this was an important place. Qubine almost never talked about his work — and when he did he would launch straight into the technical details that were impossible to understand for the laymen so that nobody would ask again — but Cardinal Rowen mentioned it once in a while.

This was where much critical work on saving Basel was taking place. Carried out only by one man, because that was how God liked to do things. Two and a half decades ago, He took away the Prelate but blessed Basel with two brilliant minds, prophets who predicted the downfall of Albona and eventually minimised the occurrence of the Sudden Death Syndrome. Now, He gave the world Qubine.

It wasn't up to Jean Paulet to question God's plans, but it did seem like a cruel joke to bestow to just one man the brains that could make or break this world. Thank Heavens that Qubine was a good man. Jean Paulet just prayed that this blessing wouldn't become his curse.

The place was huge, and orderly, and there was something going on on every bench. There were glass tanks and engines and jars and hoses and tools and machines that Jean Paulet could not name. He hadn't been here before, simply because there had never been the opportunity. But he wondered if Qubine would have allowed him inside had it been a normal day. Somehow, he didn't think so. This was a concession.

Out of respect, he stayed near the door.

"What do you need?"

"Oh, rien de particulier. There's this man who was stupid enough to turn down the one he loves, and I'm curious as to what he looks like, that's all."

Qubine's expression hardened, but Jean Paulet stopped him before he turned and walked away.

"Come now, you know that's not going to help."

"I don't make a habit of being courteous to anyone who comes only to insult me."

Fair enough. Jean Paulet didn't come to place blame or take sides, unlikely as that may seem to Qubine. He took a deep breath and softened his voice. "I know you love him, there is nothing you can say that could convince me otherwise. What I don't know is what possessed you to make a decision like that, but I trust you have a very good reason... I hope you have a very good reason, because if not, I will stop praying for you."

It wasn't a threat to someone who didn't believe, but he knew Qubine understood the weight behind it.

"Noted. If there's nothing else—"

"Do you remember on the eve of my wedding I told you 'no man is an island'?" asked Jean Paulet. "If you need to talk, I'm here for you, I just want you to know that."

The words astonished Qubine, who stared at his friend and slowly nodded.

"That's all I've come to say, crétin." Sometimes Qubine could be so painfully simple, really. Did he not think that his friends would always be there for him?

"You're done then. Now get out." The usual Qubine was back, long-suffering and ungrateful.

"Not yet. Give me a hug." Jean Paulet grinned when his friend scowled. "I'm not going to leave until you do."

"Just what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Come on, I mean it."

Qubine all but groaned as he forced himself to comply with Jean Paulet's demand. Jean Paulet moved closer to make this feel less like a cursory gesture. Good grief, he had to resort to threats just to get an embrace out of the man!

"I know you want to ask, so: David's fine," he quietly said, although he didn't know if it was true. David was far too good at putting up a front and Jean Paulet hated to admit this, but after all these years he still could not see beyond it. "I hope you're okay as well. Look after yourself, otherwise you'll have to suffer me again. Compris?"

"I heard you. Fichez le camp!"

Jean Paulet laughed and extracted himself from Qubine's arms before he was pushed. Task accomplished.

Time to go home and think about the suffering his naive meddling had caused. If both of them stayed silent all these years, there must be an important reason. What did he think he was doing, encouraging David without first trying to understand the nature and depth of the issue?

This wasn't Qubine's fault. It was his.

 

What a week.

But at least things were going well at home. When Rush got back earlier in the night, Irina told him her new client had agreed in principle to commission her to design a range of maternity clothing. He didn't know what "agreed in principle" meant, but he assumed it was good news.

The rest of the week didn't go so well. As David promised, they hadn't contacted each other because he reckoned Rush would probably appreciate some time to himself, to think about stuff. And Rush did need the time, not that it really helped or anything, but just not talking to or seeing David was a bit of a relief. He was pretty sure what they did meant nothing in particular to his friend, but Rush wasn't used to one-night-stands so he had to wait until his head worked with that fact, and then he could relax a bit. As for the more personal issues sleeping with a guy had raised, those were actually a bit easier for him to deal with. In the past few days he tried to pay attention to both sexes; women were still hot, men... he could see possibilities, but they weren't as easily attractive to him, unlike David. And if he thought about David... well damn. Qubine had no idea what he was missing.

He didn't think he was getting emotionally involved though, so that was fine, right?

Not that it made him much less anxious. He'd spent a few days agonising over whether or not to tell Paris about what happened between David and Qubine. And then today, Paris said that Jean Paulet had reminded him to make sure David felt welcomed in Chandelier, that he was family and he wasn't just imposing whenever he visited. So Paris invited his brother to dinner, but David turned him down, claiming he was busy all of this week and the next, and maybe the one after too.

It was only then that Rush bit the bullet and told Paris about David's approach, and Qubine's rejection. Paris's manor was next door to Qubine's, so David wouldn't want to come again so soon. Paris should pick a restaurant instead if he wanted to invite his brother to dinner, or they could do something away from home together instead. And he should not ask David relationship questions right now. Paris thanked Rush for the information and advice, and walked off in a daze, probably stunned by the way things were tangled up between people.

So now Paris knew. Rush hoped he did the right thing. At least now he could stop worrying over whether he should or should not tell.

It was day-off for him tomorrow, thankfully. He should give David a call to check if he was okay. Qubine was someone he committed murder for, and the one who made him break all those years of sobriety. This really was a huge deal to him. Sure, Zephyr was there to keep an eye on him, but this wasn't just about the possibility of him losing his marbles. Rush could only imagine how much it'd hurt if someone he loved that much turned him down.

Just as he decided to go to the phone, it rang. He picked it up.

"Hello? Is Rush there please?"

Ha. Friends were indeed connected by invisible threads. "Dave, I was just about to call you. How're you doing?"

"I'm all right. Actually, are you free? There's something I want to discuss with you and... it's best not to do it over the phone."

That sounded ominous, but it was probably nothing really.

"Sure. Where do you wanna meet?"


	24. True Kindness

[AR1140, autumn]

"Hey." Spotting David coming towards him, Rush went to meet him half way, and started to frown as he got closer. There was something weird about the way David was moving. Something wrong with his shoulders maybe? "You okay?"

David nodded. "Work injury. I heal fast, don't worry. Turned out I'm very hard to kill."

They were both grown-ups and there was no point telling David to be more careful, so Rush just rolled his eyes.

They were at a square near Rush's house, just a little north of the elevator to Level 6. This was a quieter neighbourhood compared with Ebel city centre, and considered the hippy district, with little restaurants, music and book stores, and even a dedicated hat shop. How his parents ended up picking this area to live in, Rush had no idea. Most shops were closed by now but it was a decent place for a walk.

"How was your week?"

"Could be better. I haven't done much because I didn't want to move around too much. But I went to the club yesterday and that was quite decent."

"You went clubbing like that? Jeez!"

David laughed. "I mean the jazz club. It's a place Rhagoh showed me, you just go listen to music and have drinks. Sometimes people dance. I thought about clubbing, but I think I've gone off it. Maybe I'm getting too old."

"If you're old then I'm practically ancient," said Rush. "But I know what you mean. Back in the day I used to do pub crawls and urbex, now I think a quiet night in is totally ace."

David tilted his head. "That reminds me, you haven't mentioned your urban exploration for a long time."

"Yeah. I used go with my ex, and then we broke up and it wasn't much fun doing it by myself," said Rush.

"Like a lot of things."

"Yup."

His eyes on their feet, David quieted down for a bit, then he looked up again.

"I want to do some tests. As in my abilities, what I can stand up against, and so on."

Right, on the phone things sounded ominous. It turned out that was for a good reason. "What? Why?"

"Something happened recently and made me think I need to know myself better."

"And that's all the explanation you're giving me," Rush noted, making sure his friend could tell how unhappy he was about this. "So how are you going to do that?"

"Well," David coughed. Rush could tell he was not going to like this next bit. "By pushing myself as far as I can, and by accepting my strengths, rather than limiting them."

"No."

"Rush..."

"You want me to watch that, and maybe restrain you when things go wrong? Man, you know I can't do it. I'm not sticking my neck out for this."

"You don't have to. You have the switch."

"That thing guarantees nothing except electrocution! It doesn't do anything to your head! What if you go too far and nothing can bring you back? No, Dave. You can't make me do this. I'm not doing this. We're not doing this."

The switch. It wasn't that simple. It wasn't a miracle button that made everything right. Rush was glad that David would trust him with something that important, but hell if he would voluntarily go through situations where he might have to use it. Being there for his best friend? Sure. Doing something dangerous and stupid with him? Maybe. But this? No way. Rush wasn't known for stopping people or getting in their way of things, but this, right here, he had to draw the line.

David said nothing.

"Before you ask: yes I'm pissed off. And yes that's an absolute, categorical 'no'. And don't you dare to go and do it without me anyway."

Finally, a sigh. "I apologise. You make a very good point."

Thank god. "That was a dumb idea."

"I just want to know myself better so that I won't be afraid of myself."

"It sucks, I know. But there are some risks you just can't take. Look, why am I telling you this? That should be your line."

"Well, it'd also be something new for me to focus myself on."

"Most people get through rough patches by finding hobbies and focuses that don't involve possible insanity and death." Damn that Qubine, it must be because of him that David hadn't got his head screwed on properly. "Think of something else."

David dipped his head. "I suppose I should."

Rush didn't think he overreacted, but he probably could have used a softer tone. Oh well. "Have you guys talked since then?"

"No. And we're taking a break from our regular lunch meets."

"Give it time. Things will get better."

"I know. I'm fine. I'm miserable, but fine."

"Well, I'm here if you need..."

Rush's voice trailed off as he realised what his words sounded like. When David looked at him, an eyebrow arched in amusement, he shoved his hands inside his trouser pockets, embarrassed. And then David actually laughed at him.

"I wasn't even thinking about that until you suddenly stopped talking." He moved closer, tipping his head towards Rush. "I guess you're okay?"

Well shit, Rush thought. He really quite liked the way David smelled. He didn't know what "okay" meant in his case, but he nodded anyway.

David ducked, a little uncomfortable. "I did wonder if it was too soon to call. You were worried about taking advantage of me but in the end I think I took advantage of you."

"Oi," Rush didn't like how David put that. Not at all. "I was the one who made the move, and I clearly remember having only had half a glass of that cocktail beforehand. I ain't an idiot. 'Sides, if you need to 'claim responsibility' that just means it was a bad thing..." Hold on a minute. Uh-oh. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

He watched David's reaction, and realised he'd been tricked. The sly bastard.

"You definitely are okay, then." David noted, that wily smile turning more genuine. "In how much detail do you want me to answer that question?"

"I don't want to know," was Rush's first response, and it was partly honest. But he also really, really wanted to know. Because who wouldn't? "Well, rate me on a scale of 90 to 100."

God, Rush could feel his face burning up, and the way David was staring at him and looking far too entertained by the whole thing didn't help.

"I'd give you a seven out of ten."

That wasn't a score Rush was expecting. "You're pulling my leg."

"I'm not. I could explain but if your face gets any redder it might start smoking." David dry coughed a few times. "And I need to be wearing looser jeans if I'm going to start talking about it in public."

Rush coughed as well. Right. David was just buttering him up because he was a friend and it was his first time. But that was still kind of nice to hear.

But enough on that. Rush moved away a little so that David wasn't in his personal space anymore. If they kept on talking like that, he was going to need loose trousers too.

"So! Qubine." He needed something to say, and there was one thing he ought to own up to. "I er, told Paris about what happened. Sorry. He was getting really confused why you wouldn't go home for dinner."

"Oh, don't worry about that. He's my brother, he'd find out sooner or later. In fact I meant to tell him so that he wouldn't get upset if I didn't go back for a while, but I was too embarrassed to. So thanks for telling him for me."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I am anyway. It's not an easy thing to admit to your own brother you like your mutual friend."

"If you put it that way, I guess," said Rush, trying to imagine himself saying to Irina that he liked David. Uh, no. Just the idea of it made him want to squirm. "Well, now he knows, and it's all going to be better soon. If you want something new to do... hey, why don't you come urbex with me?"

Slowing his pace, David gave the suggestion a thought. "Why not? I'll give it a go. What do I need for that?"

"Bring a camera if you want, other stuff like torch and gloves you can borrow from me. Ah, the idea might horrify you, but you'll need some trousers that aren't tight. With pockets that can actually hold things."

David cackled. "As a matter of fact I do own things like that. You're going to be the one who's horrified when you see me in them."

"I guess we'll just have to see."

 

Qubine had expected it to be quite difficult to pick up the piano again, but the main obstacle turned out not to be his lack of practice, but the instrument itself. He debated whether it was worth spending the time to do some maintenance and tuning, and in the end decided it was, because if left any longer, the poor thing might be beyond repair and there were fewer and fewer of them made now.

The maintenance took nearly a whole day so in the end he only got to play for a couple of hours. The staff did remind him of lunch which he ate reluctantly, since he disliked being disturbed in the middle of a complex operation. For the evening meal, the maid actually brought it to him on a trolley, with lids over the plates, optimistic that Qubine would find time to eat before the food actually went cold. His head literally inside the workings of the piano, he didn't even know there was food until the maid returned to ask if he wanted more tea.

He liked playing the piano. Hitting the keys to produce sound was a simple thing, but do it in the right order, speed and intensity, and it could make music. It was creating art out of mechanical motions. There were other musical instruments he also enjoyed, but playing the violin right now seemed far too melodramatic.

Out of all his friends, Qubine was the only one with any real gift in playing music. Jean Paulet couldn't play a tune to save his life. Paris sang very well, but was always too shy to do so unless David was on the guitar, then Paris would sing a bit.

Qubine's fingers missed a few keys at the thought of David.

He didn't think David would feel that way about him. He had never imagined David would overlook what Qubine's mother had done, and ask him out. Still being allowed to be David's friend despite being who he was, that was the biggest, and only, miracle in Qubine's life, until his friend stood in front of him and confessed his feelings.

But that wasn't real. They had become too close, that was all. David thought he had feelings that were strong enough for him to disregard who Qubine was, but those feelings would fade. If they were together, Qubine would just be another boyfriend who would last a few months, a year maybe. He was someone David couldn't even trust as a friend like the way he trusted Rush. How could they be together if something that big, that important was keeping them apart?

David was never going to tell him, that was why Qubine said to him on the phone that they should just drop it for good. He could break it to David that he already knew, but if David couldn't stand the thought of him knowing, couldn't trust him, then doing that would only destroy their friendship.

That night in the study, Qubine picked what he thought was the best option. This way, at least they could salvage their friendship and stay in each other's life for whatever remained of his years, rather than be together a few months and then separate forever, with memories that would only leave a sour taste in the mouth.

But was that the best option, really? If he could have David for a few months, or even just weeks, then at least David had once been his. Was having once had someone and then seeing it all ruined better than having him just beyond arm's reach forever?

Well, he would never know now.

"Wow! I haven't heard you play in ages!" It was Pater peeking through the door. Qubine's fingers paused, and he smiled at him. "Aw, please don't stop?"

Qubine obliged his brother and kept playing, but choosing something lighter, making it up as he went along. Pater picked a seat for himself.

"You didn't come to dinner again! Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll eat in a minute. The maid's left food over there."

"Then you ought to eat it quickly! We're all worried about you."

"I understand, but actually I find her quite invasive. Maybe she can be reassigned to a different part of the house."

"Aw, that's just because she likes you."

Qubine stopped playing and turned around. "What?"

Pater grinned at him. "She likes you, obviously! She doesn't mean anything bad, she just wants to look after you."

Just what had Qubine done to deserve this? What was it about him that anyone would even like? "Well, that is still not appropriate." He was being a hypocrite, given what he had done before with Antourion's maid, but what Pater didn't know, Pater didn't know. "If she doesn't stop, I will get her reassigned."

"You're always so mean to people who like you."

Pater had a way of saying words that got right to people without even knowing it. Luckily Qubine had turned back towards the piano so that his brother couldn't see his face.

"Leanne said you've stopped going to Ebel."

So Pater came with a plan to talk. "It's also not appropriate for me to go there now." Qubine put his hands on the keyboard, but he couldn't summon the strength to play anymore. "Things aren't so good between David and I at the moment."

"What? That's impossible."

"There was... a confession, and..."

So that was why people sometimes didn't finish sentences, Qubine noted. This wasn't something he minded Pater knowing — he would find out sooner or later, since they shared so many mutual friends and his girlfriend lived with David — but the actual words themselves were just stuck in his throat, choking him.

Behind him, Pater gasped. "But I thought he likes you too!"

Had he been that obvious, or was it because Pater was his brother? Qubine hoped it was the latter. "No, it was the other way around."

"What? What? But why?"

"I just don't see it working between us... I have too much to do, and..."

"But that's not true. Mum was always at her science too, but she had time for both a family and a lover... maybe not so much for family I guess."

Qubine turned around again. "You knew about that?"

"You can't protect me from _everything_." Pater shrugged. "Mum wasn't a nice woman. But you're nice! You deserve to be very happy!"

The affirmation was comforting even if it was the biased opinion of his own brother. Still, Qubine couldn't quite make himself smile. He returned to his keyboard, playing one of Pater's favourite tunes.

"I am quite happy," he said. "There is nothing that I need."

"But..."

Qubine wasn't going to discuss this with anyone, not even Pater.

There was something he had to talk to Jean Paulet about, however. He just hadn't worked up the courage to do so yet, even though he was ready to give up everything. He had already given up everything.

"Enough about me. How are things with Leanne?"

 

He stood outside. Day had turned into dusk. Lights came on one by one, filtering through the immaculately clean church windows.

This was his best chance. After today, it would be a long time before an opportunity like this surfaced again.

Qubine held back a sigh and entered the church.

He had to be cruel to be kind; Jean Paulet deserved better.


	25. Mon Ami

[AR1140, autumn]

Emmy suddenly drew a breath and giggled. Jean Paulet looked up, and she reached for his hand, putting it on her belly.

"This really hurts! He's definitely a dancer, like you."

"Or she is a fencer, like you," said Jean Paulet, smiling when he felt the baby kick again. He wished he could adequately describe this incredible feeling, to be so blessed.

He got back to the task at hand, gently massaging Emmy's swollen calves. People said that childbearing was the most natural thing in the world, but it was definitely no easy task. Emmy wasn't the sort to complain but Jean Paulet could see when it hurt.

"It's good to see you smile again."

"Pardon?"

"You've been upset since you came home."

Jean Paulet's hands paused momentarily. "It was the rites of penance today. I'll be better soon."

Emmy just nodded. He was always quieter after penance day; listening to confessions would sober up even the most ecstatic of souls. And it wasn't as if he could share the burden. It was his job to guide these people, pray for them, and take their secrets to the grave.

"Jean?"

Jean Paulet looked up when Emmy pulled her legs away from him, and noticed that everything looked blurry. He dabbed his eyes and chuckled quietly.

"Mon dieu. What am I doing." He stood up and pressed a kiss on his wife's forehead. "Sorry my love, I need to get some air. Excusez-moi."

He knew Emmy's eyes were following him as he went out to the balcony. He had never been so affected by the rites before, but today was different.

_It was nearly the end of the day. Most of the faithful had gone home, the few who were still there were praying or organising activities. Inside the penance booth, Jean Paulet stretched, glad that he could finally go home and begin his paternity leave._

_The booth door on the other side opened, and Jean Paulet lowered his arms. It seemed like his day wasn't over yet. It would be wrong to turn anyone away, however; it took much courage for someone to decide to confess their sins._

_"Cardinal Jean Paulet, at your service," he said, toning his usual greeting down by several levels._

_For a few long minutes he waited for any sort of response, but he didn't rush things. Penance quite often had slow starts._

_And then the other side spoke._

_"If I'm not a believer, would what I say here still be in confidence?"_

_It was a voice Jean Paulet knew well._

_"Y-yes. All words spoken in this booth are confidential. The law has no power to demand any knowledge, and I am bound by my faith to keep anything you confess to myself only." To himself, and to God, but Qubine wouldn't care about that part._

_Qubine, in the other side of the booth._

_A chuckle. "The power of your faith. That's definitely good enough."_

_It didn't sound like Qubine was making fun of him. In fact, it almost sounded as though he was envious. Jean Paulet couldn't understand. The screen between them prevented him from seeing Qubine's face, but he could just about make out the outline of his friend._

_"I killed some people seven years ago."_

Hands gripping the railing, Jean Paulet looked out from the balcony, but not really seeing anything except for the perforated wooden screen of the penance booth, and the faint shadow of Qubine through the gaps. His friend told him about numerous human experiments led by his mother that eventually led to the Crank Seminary Disaster. He described the confrontation when they went on an inspection trip together, his accusations of the crimes as well as her infidelity to her husband, her unremorseful admission, and her breakdown as she talked about how her lover, a fellow scientist, abandoned her for another. He told Jean Paulet how hard he pushed her, how far she fell down that foundation trench, and how he learned that, when metal pierced through a body, it didn't make much of a sound, unlike the sound effects on television would have you believe.

He talked about finding each scientist who had worked on that project and making them disappear. Their identities and lives were so secret no one even knew they had lived, so they were not missed when they died.

_Jean Paulet was breathless at this point, the weight of the words he'd heard pressing down on his chest. A Cardinal playing god instead of serving Him, and his friend, a man he loved and respected, taking justice into his own hands. The blood of four people, including his own mother._

_"Why... why didn't you just alert the authorities? Why did you..."_

_"She was a Cardinal. A scandal of this nature and magnitude would have toppled the system," said Qubine, not having moved an inch during all of this. "And there are survivors from those experiments. They had to be protected, not paraded through a courtroom as witnesses or mutants."_

_Jean Paulet put his hands on the screen, wishing he could reach through it and grab his friend. There had to be a flaw in this logic. Murder couldn't have been the only option, even if it was to protect others._

"Jean?" Suddenly Emmy was beside him. He jumped, not having noticed her approach, and wiped his eyes again. "I know you can't talk about it, but this really isn't like you at all."

Jean Paulet took a minute to calm down before speaking.

"Do you think... it can be right to kill?" he asked, not looking at her. "The Cardinals, as a unit, sometimes pay for hunters to execute rebels. I have always voiced my disagreement over this stance, but maybe I've simply been too naive. I pray for guidance but... perhaps God wants me to figure this out for myself."

Or, sending Qubine to talk to him was God's answer to the question.

Adjusting her shawl to cover her belly better, Emmy didn't say anything. She knew he was just thinking out loud rather than wanting a reply.

_There was a quiet clatter as Qubine pushed his chair back._

_"I don't regret what I had done," he said. "I'm not here to confess my sins or look for forgiveness. This is just so you know how delusional you've been. I'm not the person you think I am and I don't need you to be there for me. Leave me alone and go look for people who are worthy of your friendship."_

_Jean Paulet listened to Qubine leave, and he wanted to chase behind, but his leg wouldn't move. For a long time he stayed there, wishing he was stronger, wishing he wasn't afraid._

"I'm naive. I've known this all along, and choose to stay that way because I'm a coward," he whispered, his hands shaking as they gripped the railing. "I know that many people close to me have secrets, things that are hurting them, but I choose not to ask. I pretend it's because they don't want me to know, when in truth I'm just afraid I can't help them. If my head is in the sand then I don't need to deal with anything."

With a determined look, Emmy yanked her husband's hand off the rail and put it on her swollen belly. The simple touch and the knowledge of the new life inside calmed Jean Paulet down somewhat, and he smiled at her, embarrassed. She frowned at him.

"I married a great man. Anyone can moan and be melodramatic, but to keep smiling takes courage. To keep smiling and make other people smile as well takes sacrifice. You make everyone happy, Jean, at your own expense. The coward you just described, that's not you at all, and if you keep thinking that way I'll drop kick you into next week."

As if on cue, the baby kicked at Jean Paulet's hand through Emmy, making them both jump. They both started to giggle, and Jean Paulet leaned in for a kiss. Neither of them were entirely right, but they could meet half way. He was a coward, but he could be strong if he chose to.

He could be strong. He wanted to be strong. He _had_ to be strong.

"Merci, ma chérie." He bent down to kiss her stomach too. "There is something I need to do. I don't know what it is yet, but I'll go now and think about it on the way."

She bopped him on the head.

"Go then, you silly thing."

 

There was panic and confusion as the staff not-so-subtly tried to work out if Jean Paulet had been invited to dinner but they weren't informed or had forgotten, but he didn't bother explaining his arrival, declined their offer to take his coat, and headed straight for the workshop. It was supper time but that island of a man must be working.

"Cardinal?" Footsteps echoed along the corridor that led towards the workshop. A voice was calling behind Jean Paulet. "Cardinal!"

It was the maid from last time. Jean Paulet whipped around, impatient. "He'll see me."

"Master Qubine is at the greenhouse," she told him with a smile. "Shall I lead the way?"

Indeed, Qubine was in the greenhouse around the back of the manor. There were lights installed in the garden which Qubine had rigged up to motion sensors, and these announced Jean Paulet's approach long before he reached the entrance.

"Sometimes I forget you have another nest here." He peeked inside and saw mostly green, occasionally dotted by other colours. The greenhouse wasn't big, but it was arranged with Qubine-like precision. "May I come in or would I accidentally kill something?"

At the far end of the greenhouse, Qubine gave no reaction, his face a strange cross between confused, resigned and defensive, if that was at all possible. Jean Paulet tentatively invited himself inside the biological haven, and received no objection. Ah, so when Rowen mentioned the work Qubine was doing that was essential to Basel's survival, this was one of the things he was referring to. Chemistry and mechanics were not easy for Jean Paulet to comprehend, but this, life that would supplement, strengthen and improve Basel's environment and food supply, he could understand at a single glance.

"I was wondering how you're holding up," he began, and carefully approached his friend, occasionally ducking under some low-hanging climbers, "and if you're ready for another confession. Because I've come to tell you how much I love you, you beautiful man."

It took another few steps for Jean Paulet to reach his friend, who by then had furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Just what in the world is wrong with you?"

"You really have no idea, do you?"

A shadow crossed Qubine's face. He had settled on defensive. "Congratulations, you have mastered sarcasm." He moved towards another area of the greenhouse, carefully not bumping shoulders with Jean Paulet. "Now get out and may our paths never cross again."

"Oh, mon ami." Jean Paulet turned on his heels, his eyes following Qubine, but Qubine wouldn't look at him.

"I know." He sighed all of a sudden, now resigned. It looked as if he was talking to the tray of seedlings beside him. "I deliberately sought you out under those circumstances so that you can't talk about it to anyone else. It wasn't fair to you at all. But Pater mustn't find out, and there is still work I must do. So say everything you need to say, and wrap things up now. I'm sorry that there is nothing more I can do."

Standing amongst the very work Qubine was referring to, Jean Paulet thought he understood. Qubine might say he felt no guilt for his crime, but his conscience still suffered and this was his response. Maybe Rowen was wrong and this wasn't for Basel, this was for the survivors Qubine mentioned.

"A heartfelt apology isn't like you, and I don't need it." Jean Paulet stayed where he was. Perhaps Qubine was feeling cramped in; he had always been sensitive when it came to personal space. "I admit that I cannot agree with what you did. Maybe it's because I don't know the full extent of what happened, maybe I'm just naive. Or maybe what you did was wrong. But my God will be the judge of that. I still love you. Quite scared by whatever is holding you together, but I love you regardless."

Qubine might be choosing to let go, but Jean Paulet wasn't going to let him fall. And who was he to judge events of the past that he could hardly understand? They lived in the present and right now, this man needed him more than ever.

Long seconds passed, and then Qubine said gently, "Have you forgotten to take your medication today? You didn't even finish that sentence with 'imbécile'."

That sounded much more like the Qubine he knew.

"The manner of manifestation of my love is not quite like David's, but the impetus is the same," said Jean Paulet, grinning as Qubine buried his face into his palm and quietly groaned. It wasn't fair of him to poke fun, but it wasn't as if Qubine didn't think about David all the time anyway, right? And it wasn't as if he was lying, it was a little exaggeration, that was all. "Anyway, I've done what I came to do, so I shan't bother you any longer. Emmy is waiting for me to go back for dinner, and you should consider joining your family once in a while too. Take care of yourself, mon ami."

He had hardly taken two steps towards the exit before Qubine made his way over.

"Wait."

"Hmm?"

Standing together, Jean Paulet had slight height advantage, thanks only to the heels on his boots. Neither of them were too short by conventional standards, but they were inches lower compared with most of their friends and this had always made Jean Paulet self conscious. Qubine, on the other hand, never seemed to care much about his appearance, claiming he had more important things to worry about — that was unless David said something. A damn shame, considering he was blessed with rather good looks.

Before Jean Paulet, Qubine's mouth moved, making several attempts to produce sound before succeeding.

"Give me a hug. You are not leaving until you do."

Jean Paulet could recall himself saying the same words to Qubine not too long ago. Oh, wouldn't David be jealous. But he also knew David would thoroughly approve.

"Why, I thought you'd never ask."


	26. Still Friends

[AR1140, autumn]

If the world was a different sort of place, Rush would rather not take anything from the locations they explored, in order to preserve the feel of the places for the next person who visited. But in Basel, resources were scarce and scavenging rife. Sometimes if he spotted something seriously interesting, he would take it with him, not in a looting sort of sense, but to rescue it, and pass it on to someone who would see its true value and maybe restore the item rather than rip it up for parts. So when he saw David take that music box, he was actually quite glad.

He took David through the same training course, as it were, that his ex-girlfriend put him through as an introduction to urban exploration. There were rules to respect, things to watch out for and techniques to learn that weren't obvious, and there were locations ideal for this sort of learning. As he expected, David picked it all up quite easily, so they moved on, choosing sites that Rush hadn't yet thoroughly explored.

And then Rush realised David was trouble, because Rush couldn't keep up with him. On top of his superior physical strength and agility, David apparently had no fear of heights at all. The stairs in one of the multi-storey buildings near Waterless Bridge had long been filled with rubble, making the upper levels inaccessible, and David decided to just climb on the outside as if he was some kind of insect.

"Dave!"

"Nobody's been up there. I want to take a look."

Rush stuck his head out a window and watched his friend ascend. If he fell from here, it would be a sure death. "Geez, I can't take you anywhere!"

David snickered. "I'll be careful."

Around ten minutes later David reappeared, swinging in through the same window he climbed out of earlier. He showed Rush something from his bag: a music box. It was lacquered and still looked like it was in good nick.

"Huh. That looks pretty nice"

David put it in his bag again. "JP's baby is due in a few weeks. He's bound to get a lot of baby clothes and such as gifts, I thought I could give something different."

"Does it work?"

"Not right now, but maybe it can be fixed," said David. "I will ask Qubine."

Qubine, when he could just ask at a shop? "Him?"

David looked away. "It's been a while since we last talked. I think it's about time we try to be friends again."

Rush didn't think those two ever stopped considering each other as friends, but that was a minor detail. The sooner things got back to normal, the better. Then he could stop thinking that maybe, maybe he could be a bit more than friends with David. It was all just hero-worship, he was sure, because whenever he saw David do something amazing like climb really high walls or shoot things as if he didn't need to aim, Rush felt a bit warm under the collar. That was all there was to it. But the fact was he did feel that way and it was beginning to morph into a silly crush on his best friend. At his age, this was seriously not cool.

"Rush?"

"Huh?"

"Let's go home."

"Sure." They headed to the door for the lower stairs. "What're you doing tonight?"

David bent an arm behind his head and pulled the elbow with his other hand, stretching. Then he did the same for the other arm. "Clubbing."

"I thought you've gone off it."

"But it remains the easiest place to pick someone up."

Oh. Rush was glad the stairs were narrow and David was behind him, because nobody needed to see his reaction right now. Being even a tiny bit jealous was also not cool. Sure, he was right here and available but... maybe once was okay. But twice? That would be forming a habit. And it wasn't as if he'd even indicated that he was available.

Their footsteps echoed off the walls, growing louder as they turned on a landing. Someone had spray-painted their anti-establishment sentiments on the wall there in vibrant colours.

"You've gone quiet all of a sudden," David remarked behind him.

"Oh I'm just... thinking."

"That I'm a slut?"

"No! What're you talking about?"

"It's all right. Everyone does that slight recoil when I mention it. It happens when you have friends who have different feelings about these things."

"As long as you're happy, who cares? It's not like you're going around impregnating people."

David laughed briefly.

"'Who cares'," he repeated, voice lowering. "I don't know. Maybe Qubine does. Maybe he thinks I'm a slut."

"Oh Dave, stop that."

"That's not going to change me anyway. No one tells me what I can do with myself. I decide and I choose who is allowed to touch me, and how."

Rush bit his lip. He hadn't thought about it this way. He had always taken for granted something as simple as having control over his own body, and why not, that was the same for everyone. Except David.

He kept going until they reached another landing, then turned around. "Can I give you a hug?"

Surprised, David stopped just before they bumped into each other. He studied Rush, judging the situation. Then he dropped his shoulders. "As long as it's not out of sympathy, and you're not trying to prove something."

Heh, David saw right through him. "Out of our amazing, beautiful friendship, then?"

It felt really, really good to wrap his arms around David, and feel his friend rest his head on his shoulder in an obvious gesture of trust. Rush just had to make sure he breathed through his mouth so that he couldn't smell him, and think about unsexy things. It wasn't that difficult, because all he could really think of was the day Paris, still a teenager then, cried on his shoulder, his faith in humanity completely shaken after reading the experiment reports.

To be perfectly honest, Rush didn't even know what "humanity" was anymore, and sometimes he didn't think he cared about the definition. Why should he let a handful of examples of the worst people affect how he thought about everyone else? Paris and David were very different people, and both perfectly human to him. They laughed when they were happy, cried when they were upset, bled when they were cut. Rush tried not to think of David as more, or less, human than anyone else just because he was better at sports and could see well in the dark.

David had told him before that in his head, there were conflicting emotions as to what was "real", and the usual conclusion was that he, and everyone in Basel, were not real humans. But hey, did that really matter?

Rush held David for as long as it was appropriate, then stepped back. "You know what, I think I feel like trying my chances at the club as well, if two ain't a crowd."

"I don't mind," said David, both eyebrows raised, "just don't blame me if you're seduced by hedonism."

"Honestly, if that does happen it'd be weird if I blamed anyone."

"That's true."

 

It was the same club as the one he always went to, but it felt like a whole new world to Rush tonight, partly because this time he intended to leave with someone new — the thought had come to him before, but he never actually went through with it because he was a bit chicken — and partly because of the new possibilities. His eyes weren't just on the women anymore.

It didn't mean he was any bolder than he used to be. He and David went to the bar first. Some alcohol to help him calm the nerves, and some water for David, as they surveyed the crowd. Then David tipped his head towards Rush.

"Are you only looking at the girls, or...?"

"I don't know yet." Rush couldn't always tell which way the guys swung, and if they were gay, were they a top or a bottom or just-hands-and-mouth? Crap, what if he got it all wrong? "This is like a minefield."

David was reading his face, and he could tell what the problem was. "Ah, I don't always get it right either, in this club people don't get offended, don't worry about that. If you're sure you want to try, start by dancing with me; getting seen dancing with a guy is a good start. Then we each get on with ourselves. If you need help, tap me on the shoulder."

With that, David put down his water and joined the floor. Rush hesitated, but since none of the women were catching his attention anyway, he decided to just go for it.

The trouble was, after dancing with David for a bit, he wasn't sure if he wanted to dance with anyone else. Damn, David was one of those people who were just good at everything. Rush could spend all night just watching him move. Okay, maybe not all night because after a while it would start getting uncomfortable, so it was a good thing that David moved away quite soon, though not before cupping his hands around Rush's ear and saying "I think you'll be fine."

Soon Rush knew what David meant. He didn't have to actively look for a new partner, because there were guys eyeing him already. Emphasis on the plural. To find out that he was pretty damn attractive to guys was very empowering.

From there on it was no different from what Rush already knew: pick the one he liked the look of the most, and go from there. Once in a while David would check on him — he could tell because he occasionally tried to see how David was getting on too — but he didn't actually need help.

But some time, and a direct offer from someone who grinded his backside on Rush's crotch later, he was still there. A couple of the people he'd danced with were quite attractive, but he didn't want to go anywhere with them, and it wasn't because he was chickening out.

And then he was dancing with David again.

"Nothing for you?" he asked.

"Too many of my kind tonight. And the tops are all creeps who think they must be dominant."

"So you don't top, ever?" asked Rush. "Sorry if that's a stupid or offensive question."

"I do, but the mood very rarely strikes." David had to lean close for his voice to be heard over the music. "How about you? I thought you'd be gone by now."

Rush could feel David's breath on his skin, warm and damp. He swallowed hard. "I didn't like them much..."

"Picky." David sniggered.

"It's a big leap for me. Gotta make it a good one."

"Fair enough."

Rush wasn't completely certain who moved, he guessed it was him, or maybe it was just the press of the bodies on the floor in general, but all of a sudden they were right in each other's space, and all but grinding their hips together. And he had been propositioned enough tonight that he couldn't take much more of this.

"Rush." David didn't even have to lean in for Rush to hear him now, they were so close. He sounded breathless and, Rush's body realised before his mind did, a lot like that night, in his bed. "This is just a suggestion... since neither of us found someone, would you want to—"

"Yeah. Dave I... dammit, yes!"

Wait, what if David just wanted to say let's call it a night and go home?

Then David moved even closer, their bodies touching now, and Rush shuddered when he felt David's tongue run along the curve of his ear. No, there was no mistake at all.

"Let's go to mine."

 

Zephyr went upstairs, crossed the roof and dropped down the hatch on the other side. Vashyron and Leanne were watching TV, both in their laundry-day best, and Leanne had with her the giant pig stuffed toy from two Christmases ago, so there was no room left on the sofa. They both eyed him, but neither bothered to make room for him.

"Fine." Zephyr dragged a chair over, muttering to himself. "If you're going to be that way, then don't expect me to tell you anything."

There were frowns as his housemates tried to ascertain what he meant, and then Vashyron spotted the closed door between the two halves of their house, and nudged Leanne to look. It must have been some engrossing show on TV for them to miss that earlier.

The toy pig immediately went on Leanne's lap so that there was a space wide open in the centre of the sofa. "Oh, Zephyr, we were kidding! You know you're our most favourite person ever!"

Zephyr lowered his eyes on the seat, an eyebrow arched. Vashyron quickly dusted it and gave him the most nauseating, servile smile.

"Come, sit next to daddy!"

Zephyr gagged, and decided sitting down was the quickest way to get Vashyron to stop.

The pig toy was squeezed and moved aside so that Leanne could see Zephyr. "So David's got company? Who is it who is it? Is it Qu—"

"It's not Qubine."

It wasn't all that surprising, given the fact that Qubine hadn't dropped by for a while already. What was surprising was that it was Rush, even though he had already spent the night here once before. Maybe Zephyr and Leanne got it all wrong and David liked Rush all along, or something went wrong with Qubine and Rush was the rebound, or the whole quartz business meant David wasn't going to have another relationship and Rush was a friend with benefits. All Zephyr knew for sure was that those two didn't even noticed him until David, his t-shirt riding up and his belt undone, bumped into the sofa he was sitting on. There was an embarrassed apology, and Zephyr stood up, told them not to mind him and he'd get the door.

At the revelation that David's partner wasn't her boyfriend's brother, Leanne made a sound of disappointment, whereas Vashyron jaw hung open.

"What? Wait a minute! But Qubine's... that's a..."

Oh right. Vashyron hadn't even met Rhagoh before. Seemed like somebody never got the memo. "He isn't into women."

Vashyron almost leapt from his seat. "Why wasn't I told about this? What's with the secrecy? It's not... oh my God." He snatched the toy from Leanne. "Zephyr, don't be afraid. Show daddy on this pig where he touched you."

For the first time, Zephyr understood what people meant when they said they couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. He pushed the pig away from his face. "What secrecy, it's not our fault you have no observation skills."

"He had a boyfriend earlier this year too." Leanne rescued her pig from the men, brushing it down as if to remove any filth Vashyron might have left on it. "I talked to him once, he seemed really sweet. What happened with him?"

The details about Rhagoh, Zenith's possible intervention and David's lost quartz really weren't up to Zephyr to talk about. "No idea."

"Well, David was pretty torn up about it. But not as bad as he'd been the last few weeks, I'd say. And now he's seeing someone who isn't Qubine." Chewing the inside of her mouth, Leanne hmmm-ed at all of this.

Zephyr exchanged a look with Vashyron, neither having the heart to tell her that sleeping with someone hardly meant seeing them.

"Anyway, who's it in there? Should I start guessing?"

"I'm not telling you. It might not even be anyone you know."

"Come on!"

"You can ask him later, or you can break the rule and go over there, but I'm not breaking the code so that you don't have to break the rule."

"What code?"

Vashyron decided to contribute, coughing into his fist like he was about to say something important. "The unspoken code between men. Unlike you girls who gossip and exchange bedroom stories, us men don't talk about who's slept with whom if we respect each other as bros."

Leanne clearly didn't believe a word of that. "So you aren't curious?"

"He is," said Zephyr, "but he thinks he can find out some other way. But just so you know, you can't hear anything from my room."

Vashyron cursed.

"So you've got nothing to tell us after all!" With a shove, Zephyr was off the sofa and on the floor. "Get off, Piggy needs the seat!"

Sometimes Zephyr seriously wondered how a brute like Leanne got herself a boyfriend. He got up — he'd landed right on his tailbone, ouch — stood in front of the TV, and said a few words that made Vashyron draw a breath through the gaps of his teeth.

"You are off my bro list," he announced, and went upstairs for his room.

"What does that mean?" Leanne asked Vashyron.

"You don't respect the code, so you aren't a bro anymore. Now we're all going to start gossiping about your sex life."

"What?"

 

David had had his doubts. It may sound illogical, but when Rush turned down the other possibilities at the club, David thought that maybe Rush realised he wasn't really into men after all. It didn't mean Rush saw him as female because hell, there was no way to ignore the fact as soon as his shirt was off, but he was easier to approach and would be more forgiving if Rush did anything wrong, and maybe to Rush he wasn't as "real" as the real men out there.

Nevertheless, Rush was an attractive man, as proven by his popularity at the club. And he was the sort of person David wouldn't mind having in his bed until it really was time to get up the next day, unlike people whose beds David would only stay in until early morning at the latest. Also, Rush was a pretty damn good lay for someone who had no previous experience. So despite his doubts, David was happy to have Rush in his bed again.

He was very happy to have Rush inside him again.

Rush, David decided, was so good at this because of his inexperience. He wasn't like other men who knew exactly how they wanted it or thought their way of doing it was the best and frankly, one night stands were hardly about caring for one's partner's feelings. But Rush, not knowing exactly what he should do, watched David's reactions, learning as he went. No one could ask for more from a lover than this.

And Rush was...

"Ah..." David breathed, his thoughts trailing off. This really wasn't the time to think, when Rush was kissing his neck and their hips were slowly moving together. When they got home a while ago they were in such a hurry that they didn't even see Zephyr in the living room, but at some point things changed pace and this felt amazing too.

Rush's arms were around him. It didn't allow David much movement, but the good old missionary was intimate and Rush was getting the angle just right, so David had no complaints.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes but... I think I'm going to die if I don't get a bit more..."

David freed his arm and reached between them, but Rush brushed his hand away, and wrapped his own hand around David's erection instead, stroking to match their rhythm. This wasn't what David was expecting. He had taken care of himself last time Rush was in this bed, but perhaps he just never gave Rush the chance, and should not have doubted whether Rush was really into men at all.

"I... I can't do this for much longer either... gotta go faster..."

The sensations, and Rush's words, made David moan in need.

"Then show... ah... show me how hard you can do me."

He felt Rush's smile against his neck, and after that there were no right words to describe what happened apart from that he was very thoroughly had, and when he came he nearly bit down on Rush's shoulder.

Afterwards, Rush asked David if he was all right, worried that he had gone overboard, and David laughed at him, said he was fine, but Rush should be the one to get out of bed to turn the light off.

Not used to sharing his bed, David woke up in the middle of the night. His room was only faintly lit through the curtains by the neon signs and street lamps outside, but he could see well and he saw that Rush was also awake, and had pushed himself up on an elbow, trying to look at him. He jumped a little when David raised an arm to reach past him and turn on a small lamp.

"Did I wake you up? Sorry." Rush squinted at the sudden brightness.

"No, don't worry." David frowned a little, following Rush's gaze towards his chest. "Hmm?"

"Oh nothing I... just checking if you've healed up properly. I assumed you are since you were climbing a twenty-storey building and then went dancing after, but I was pretty rough with you."

David searched his memory, then realised Rush meant what happened a few weeks ago when he said he got injured during a job. It was sweet that Rush still remembered. "I'm completely fine. I told you I heal fast."

"What the hell happened anyway?"

David could choose not to answer, but the body armour had only just been repaired and it was right there, hanging on his wardrobe door, so come tomorrow Rush would notice that and find out anyway.

"Got shot eight times in the chest. I was wearing armour but it bruised and one of my ribs cracked from the impact." As Rush swore, David sighed. "I know. I wasn't paying attention."

Now Rush was suspicious. "Are you sure you just weren't paying attention?"

To be honest, David didn't know, the whole thing felt like it was in slow motion, and when the bullets did hit him there was a fraction of a second when he felt disappointed that he wasn't killed. It didn't matter anyway, as David learned from Zephyr that he couldn't be killed, but this was something he wanted nobody to know, not even Rush.

It could be that this was all wrong, and he was different from Zephyr, but David wasn't going to test the theory. To anyone else, longevity or even invincibility must be a gift, but to him it was yet another separation between him and the "normal" world.

When Zephyr told him about this, David asked him how he found out the first time. Zephyr didn't explain, but he said it happened eight years ago, just before he and Vashyron met. The implication was clear: he was trying to kill himself.

It was why Zephyr went mad. To have even that option taken away from him, if this was proved to be true, David thought he might lose his mind too.

"Dave?"

"It was just after I confessed to Qubine. I couldn't concentrate on anything. It was an accident."

"Well I'm sure he'll be happy to know that he almost indirectly killed you."

What did Rush want him to do about it then? "It wasn't a proud moment of my life. Look, Rush, you're in my bed. Can we leave this for now?"

A flash of annoyance crossed Rush's face, but he sighed and gave a defeated smile. "Fine."

After some shuffling, Rush switched the lamp off and lay down again, his back to David.

David stared up at the ceiling. Rush was mad at him. Lovely.

"Okay, if you need to talk, we'll talk. I can't go to sleep with you angry next to me."

"Hmm?" Rush turned around. His pupils were huge in the darkness. "I ain't angry. You're right, this really isn't the time. I'll get on your case tomorrow or somethin'."

"Oh, right." David smiled, relieved. "I can always trust you to get on my case."

"Well somebody needs to. If I don't, who will?"

The question was rhetorical. There was no one, apart from Rush, who would tell David off for anything: his housemates liked to mind their own business, Jean Paulet knew too little to say anything and preferred to ignore the fact that his friends were obviously keeping secrets, whereas Qubine simply accepted David was David and there was no point in challenging how he lived his life. Paris wasn't too timid, but he loved his brother too much to even contemplate making David feel bad about something.

"It's true." David chuckled. "Your brand of parenting works on me."

Rush snorted. "And this definitely isn't the right time to say something like that, either."

"No. But you know what this _is_ a good time for?"

There was no way Rush couldn't tell what was on David's mind, but he still narrowed his eyes and arched a suspicious eyebrow.

David nudged him to lie on his back, shifted on top of him and showed him what he meant.

 

Rush got dressed whilst staring at the body armour hanging on David's wardrobe door, reading the damage. He didn't say anything about it, the promised lecture now unnecessary.

Picking up his discarded t-shirt, Rush pulled a face. David opened a drawer, picked out a clean one and tossed it at him.

"Thanks. Mine really stinks from the club." Rush took a look at the proffered clothing, and was happy that it was a plain, loose-fitting one.

"Do you want some breakfast..." David checked the time. "I mean lunch?"

"I think Zephyr's seen enough for me for a while." Rush laughed. "So, are you up for next week? We can try the other end of Waterless Bridge."

David didn't answer right away. By next week he might be talking to Qubine again. They might even start having lunch together again, and that would clash with the urban exploration. But after Rush shifted his days off to do this for the precise reason of helping him take his mind of Qubine... maybe he could change the day with Qubine instead, if things went well...

"You can tell me later," said Rush, reading David's mind. "Don't sweat it."

"Thanks."

Rush checked his hair in the mirror, and deemed it good enough. "Right, going home."

"See you. And thanks again, Rush."

Rush just gave David a dismissive wave. But his hand on the door handle, he suddenly paused, his face turning serious.

"Hey, just want to check: we're still friends, right?"

"Of course! What kind of a question is that?"

"Good. See ya."

 

Rush shut the front door as quietly as he could behind him, but when he looked up, he could see Vashyron and Leanne up on the roof, both staring at him. He smiled at them.

He didn't care that they saw him. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide. He slept with David, so what? They were still friends.

Just friends.

Oh well, it wasn't as if he jumped into this blind. If this was how it was, then this was how it was. He could handle it.

He swallowed a sigh, and began his journey home.


	27. Greensleeves

[AR1140, autumn/winter]

The phone was picked up on the sixth ring.

"I'm on my way."

That wasn't the greeting David was expecting. "Qubine?"

It sounded like Qubine had nearly put down the phone but heard David just in time. "Oh. Sorry, hello David."

"If you're in a hurry I can—"

"It's nothing," said Qubine. Then, as if recalling a lesson on what was expected during social interactions, he added, "Jean Paulet invited me to tea."

David's mind blanked for a few seconds, then he smiled. Of course his friends would look after each other. Jean Paulet knew them well enough to not pin Qubine as the villain after David's botched confession, and Qubine did know he should accept this kindness even if it meant sacrificing his precious work time.

"I leave you alone for a few weeks and you're having tea with JP rather than killing each other? Mon dieu and qu'est-ce qu... something."

They allowed themselves to laugh at each other.

"I picked up a little something for JP's baby. It's a music box. It looks lovely but doesn't work at the moment. Maybe you can figure it out?"

"I can take a look if you want."

This was going well. David felt less nervous now. "I'm going home for dinner tomorrow, maybe I can stop by yours after?"

Qubine didn't hesitate for too long, but he did pause, hopefully only because he was a bit surprised. "Of course. That'll be fine."

"Thank you. See you tomorrow then."

David put the phone down, then looked at Zephyr, who had been staring at him over the top of his book. When their eyes met, Zephyr suddenly found his reading very interesting again.

Like father, like son, David thought. The boy was slowly turning into Vashyron. "Whatever it is you want to say, go ahead."

After a small sigh, Zephyr closed his book. "It's really not my business, but you're okay?"

"I'm fine," said David, embarrassed. Since when had he started getting so defensive and sensitive over what people think, to the extent that he misjudged his friend's good intentions? "Thanks. How's Roeas? I haven't seen her for a while."

The book opened again. Zephyr broke eye contact. "Neither have I."

What? "What do you mean?"

"She said she was going home, but didn't say how long or what for."

"Where does her family live?"

"I don't know. She never talked about them."

This sounded strange, and somewhat ominous. "Are you two all right?"

"Don't know. I mentioned coming from Crank, and she went the day after."

This could be less innocent than an extended trip home, then. "Maybe Nora knows where she is or at least has a phone number."

Zephyr said nothing. David shifted in his seat, turning towards his friend. Zephyr wasn't the type to talk about anything personal, but that wasn't really a good enough excuse for David to not notice something was going wrong.

Now it was his turn to ask the question. "Are you okay?"

Zephyr stood up. "I'm used to being alone."

The conversation was over. He trod upstairs, not because he was angry or annoyed with David, but because he had nothing more to say, David knew.

To be told something was over was one thing, to be left hanging there without answers, was another. Abandonment was something they — people who grew up in an orphanage — were familiar with. They all went through the stages: denial, disbelief, anger, sadness. Everyone wanted to eventually move on to apathy, but nobody ever got there.

But they all knew how to pretend, how to spot a pretender, and how to pretend to not have noticed anything.

And they all understood that fear, that at any moment they might suddenly find themselves alone again. To not question, Zephyr could at least hope. To ask was to tempt fate. Some might say that they could at least move on then, but those people didn't understand. Abandonment never abandoned; every time you fell back into its clutches, it held harder until, gasping for breath, it was all that you knew.

David couldn't let that happen to Zephyr. Not on his watch.

"Zephyr!"

Up on the roof, footsteps stopped. Zephyr looked down through the opened hatch. David used his best smile.

"I won't ever die on you!"

After a moment of stunned silence, Zephyr burst out laughing.

"Piss off!"

"I won't do that either!"

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck you."

"Yes please! My body is ready!"

As Zephyr rolled his eyes, defeated, Leanne walked in from the other side of the house.

"Um, guys, do I even want to ask what's going on?"

She didn't get a reply. Zephyr walked away, laughing and saying something about living with a crazy man, whereas David just smiled to himself.

He had just done a "Jean Paulet" at Zephyr. His cardinal friend would be proud.

 

David had thought seeing Qubine again would be at least slightly awkward to start with, but when he did see the man, all he could do was snort. Qubine was wearing a lab coat over his plaid pyjamas, his hair roughly tied back from his face. And there were indentations left around his eyes from his welding goggles, which he was currently wearing on his head.

"Is that how you dress for work these days?"

"I'm not going out at all today. There was no point in getting changed." Qubine's words were unrepentant, but he looked down at himself and did seem a bit embarrassed by what he saw. He turned around and led the way, looking for a room they could chat in, and quite deliberately going nowhere near the study David confessed in a few weeks ago. "Ah, the parts you sent arrived last week, thank you. I started working on them straight away and forgot to let you know."

"No problem. What are you making with them?"

"Just some toys."

That could literally mean anything. Qubine even called his birthday present to David a "toy", and it was an indestructible, glowing thing made apparently of dangerous materials. It was also, according to Jean Paulet, evidence of Qubine's love for him. David didn't think Jean Paulet made it up, it was just unfortunate that his friend was wrong.

"Well, if you can make it glow, then make one for me."

"I'll see what I can do." Finally Qubine picked one of the readings rooms. "So, you have something for me?"

"It's not for you," said David with a smile, handing over the canvas bag he had been carrying.

Qubine took out the item inside and unwrapped it from the scarf David had used as protective padding. He lifted the music box towards the light, examined it from all angles, then placed it on a desk.

"What do you think?"

Qubine didn't reply at first. From a pocket came several small screwdrivers on a keychain. He picked the one that was the right size, then used it to open up the top of the music box, and pulled off his goggles so that he could use them to store the screws that came out. Grabbing the desk lamp, he turned it on and pointed it at the box, peering inside and running his nail along the metal comb. He then tried winding it up to see what that did from inside.

"It plays _Greensleeves_. Perhaps it's not the best choice of tune for a child." Qubine looked up at David. "Then again, the original lyrics are practically arcane, so it doesn't really matter."

All of the sound David had heard from the box so far was when Qubine played with the comb, and it sounded rather like running a finger along a keyboard. "How can you tell what song it plays?"

"From looking at the locations of the pins on the cylinder... is this not normal?"

David couldn't help but chuckle. This man was frightening, and frighteningly adorable sometimes. "No."

"Oh." Qubine poked at the inside of the box some more, picking out a small lump of dust with his screwdriver. "The wind-up mechanism's become detached, that's all. It's easily fixed. It might be worth replacing the coil too, I have plenty of those lying around."

"Can I leave it with you then? Would you have time to do this?"

"I can do it now if you like. It'll only take a few minutes," said Qubine, and David had no objections. "I'll go and get the tools."

"If it's easier at the workshop..."

"It's more comfortable here." Qubine strolled out, and David heard him get someone to make tea. He was back just when the tea appeared. The lab coat was gone, replaced by a jumper over his pyjamas.

David decided to pull over a chair, sit down on the other side of the desk and drink tea as he watched Qubine work.

"So, has anything interesting happened recently?"

"Not much, unless you count Jean Paulet's increasing panic over the baby. I've sent him all the reading material I can find but it hasn't stopped him from calling everyday, as if I would know anything about it better than he does."

David could imagine that with no problem at all. "I guess it's mostly the birth that's scaring him." Because just the idea of it was horrifying to David too, and he assumed it was the same for any man.

"There is nothing I can do to help him or his wife with that." After some consideration, Qubine took out the front panel on the box as well. Maybe doing that gave him better access. "If you could please take him off my hands; calming people down is not my forte."

Well, now that they were talking again, Jean Paulet could probably stop worrying so much and not make up an excuse to call Qubine all the time. "Sure, I'll talk to him."

"How was dinner with Paris?"

Now that was something David wanted to talk about. "Informative. I found out that Rush is buying a place on this level, in the Outer Wall."

"Oh?"

"He asked Paris for proof of employment so that he could get the mortgage."

Qubine glanced at him. "And he hasn't told you?"

"No. I saw him a few days ago and he didn't say anything about moving."

People who lived in Chandelier tended to live longer. The further up you went, the better the environment. Even the air was cleaner. It would also mean a shorter journey to work everyday. If Rush could afford the move, David really couldn't blame him for doing so, but to not say a word about it was quite upsetting.

"Maybe he's finding it hard to tell me," said David, thinking out loud. In fact, he hadn't given Rush much of a chance to say anything lately because everything was all about David, all Rush could do was listen and try to make him feel better, not tell him he was going to move away. "Actually yes, it's definitely my fault."

Zephyr, and now Rush. Who else had he overlooked during the past few pathetic weeks?

"David, sometimes the problem is not you."

"Sorry?"

"You have a tendency to over-reflect on a situation and come up with excuses for people. But sometimes the problem really is them, not you."

Was this about the rejection? Was it Qubine's way of saying "it's not you, it's me"?

David smiled, wry. "I'll bear that in mind."

Several bits came out of the music box. Separating out a coil, Qubine tested its springiness and twanged it next to his ear, then picked one of the ones he'd brought with him to use as a replacement.

"So are you going to talk to him about it?"

"Perhaps. But I don't want him to start feeling guilty for looking for a better life. He's my friend, not my husband."

"Then tell him you know about it and you're happy and excited for him, so he wouldn't feel guilty."

Qubine made a good suggestion but... how odd. "Did you just give me sound social advice?"

"You don't want him to feel bad, then say it in a way that won't make him feel bad. That's just common sense." Qubine looked up again. "I've told you, you have a tendency to overthink on other people's behalf. And when you're doing that you might ignore the obvious."

David just couldn't help it sometimes. "I just don't want people to not like me." It was a childish, but it was the truth and if his best friends didn't already know this, then they should.

"Everyone likes you, David," said Qubine, and when David gave him an uneasy look he added, "yes, even I. Just because I don't want a romantic relationship with you it doesn't mean I don't like you."

David couldn't tell what feeling it was that welled up inside him, but he smiled nonetheless. "That's a relief," he said. "Really. Thanks."

Qubine sighed. "Why else do you think I'm doing this right now?"

"Because you haven't got anything for the baby yet and you're hoping you could say this is also from you?"

Qubine cleared his throat suspiciously. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course not."

"Although," Qubine tested the wind-up key. It clicked promisingly, and when it was released the whole mechanism came to life. The music was indeed _Greensleeves_. A rather complicated version too, for a music box; it must have been expensive. "Saying that this is from both of us will help ease his worries."

David nodded. The whole approach and rejection had really put Jean Paulet through the mill. He was determined to think that everything was his fault, as if he had personally broken all three of their hearts.

"Ah, JP. Now that's someone everyone loves. Even you."

"I still have no idea what you're talking about."

 

Pater was wearing his trademark green LOVE ME shirt. As his popularity grew, the shirt also became famous and there was now a range of clothing and merchandise based on it. Zephyr also had a long-sleeves t-shirt version of the same design, a gift from Leanne some time ago — apparently it was funny — and Zephyr didn't hate it actually, but luckily he wasn't wearing it today.

"So my dad and I were talking about some things last night..."

They usually chat on the rooftop, but since Pater and Leanne started dating, the chats got more infrequent and this time Pater wanted to be in Zephyr's room. Zephyr wondered what this could be about.

"You know, sometimes I forget that you have a dad."

"Well, Qubine and I are both grown up so Dad leaves us alone and does his own thing... kind of have fun with his life, I guess? He doesn't even live with us anymore."

"Huh."

"Anyway, he says Leanne seems like a nice girl... and then he asked me what plans I have for the future," said Pater. "I said I don't know, and he said well, isn't Leanne 26 now? If you want children, even if you start planning the wedding right now, she'll be 28 by the time she has the baby, and that's pretty late."

That was really damn rude of Pater's father, Zephyr thought. "What did you say to that?"

"I got a bit angry! And then he said no son, I mean it'll be hard work for her. The older a girl has babies, the harder it will be on her, so if I'm serious then I shouldn't make her wait."

"Huh. Right."

"Of course I'm serious about Leanne! But I don't know what she thinks about these things, and we've only been dating for a while..."

Pater sighed dramatically into his glass of water.

"You want me to ask her?"

"Could you?" Pater perked up at the offer, eyes brimming with hope.

"Sure."

"Oh, Zephyr! You really are such a great friend! Thank you!"

Pater was so easily pleased, and never too abashed to show his appreciation of people, it made Zephyr a bit flustered. "Not a problem. But if she starts dragging me wedding dress shopping I'll make you pay."

"Hehe. Oh! And then my brother said the best thing!"

"Yeah?"

"He said if it's too late to have children, I could just adopt instead. He said," Pater smoothed his face over and then did his best Qubine impression, "'there are plenty of orphans in need of good homes. Why bring new lives into a world that already doesn't have enough resources to support the existing population?' Dad's face when he heard that, it was just hilarious!"

Zephyr didn't know Qubine well, but he could still imagine that man saying exactly those words. Anyway, the sentiment that orphans needed homes was one Zephyr rarely heard, so his impression of Qubine just went up a few notches. Not a surprise really, someone David liked couldn't be a bad egg.

"Your brother's right, but he's still a weird guy."

"But he's good-weird... hey Zephyr, have you heard about him and David?"

"No, but I can probably guess." Having witnessed the changes over the past few weeks, Zephyr could more-or-less tell what happened.

"He turned David down! Don't you think that's just crazy? They're totally head over heels for each other!"

"Did he tell you why?"

"Not really. He just said he's too busy." Pater heaved a sigh. "He always makes good decisions but I don't know, I think he's wrong this time."

"Well, if people don't want relationships, you can't force 'em." Roeas had said before, after seeing David and Qubine together, that they made her want to punch something. Zephyr never found out what she meant, and it was now too late to ask.

"I know, but I just want everyone to be happy..."

Pater was no fool; he knew what he wished for was far from reality. But hearing those words from him, Zephyr could believe that, with someone like Pater as a leader, the lives of people were changing for the better.

After all, although they were friends, Pater and Zephyr were not alike at all. The world needed people like Pater. As for Zephyr—

"I want Leanne to be happy too. So you're going to ask her for me? Don't make it too obvious though, I don't want her to know!"

The world might not need Zephyr, but even if just one single person still needed him, he could go on. At least he had a reason to keep trying.

"Don't worry, I'll find out. By the way, I've seen her in a wedding dress."

"What?"


	28. Nice Guy

[AR1140, winter]

When one of his team members at work had a scheduling problem, Rush shifted his days off at work again to suit, after having moved them to mid-week a while ago. It didn't really matter which days he worked since he wasn't going places with David every week now; David's schedule was getting too filled up all of a sudden to go on urban exploration on a regular basis.

It was less to do with David talking with Qubine again, but more to do with his increased workload from Café Charlotte. Rush had heard from Paris too, apparently business was really picking up and Charlotte had to make sure she could cope with the demand. Last time they talked on the phone, David said he was getting Leanne to shadow him at the plantation, and hopefully she could soon take his place down there once a week.

It was all good stuff. David was keeping himself busy and he and Qubine seemed to be getting along again. Rush didn't mind that he had to readjust his days because really, what else did he do everyday apart from go home and make judgmental noises about Irina's admirers while watching telly, or hang out with mates who'd ultimately introduce him to some girl who would go "ka-ching!" as soon as they heard that he worked for Cardinal Paris? He was happy to see David getting back on track even if it meant losing him to Qubine again. This was just the way things were and Rush could say, with his hand on his heart, that he wished Qubine would love David back and those two got a happy-ever-after.

He was no saint, but he also wasn't stupid, that was all.

"Hey, Rush."

Since David got his lift pass, it wasn't too much of a surprise to occasionally see him at Paris's manor now. This time David had a large bag slung over his shoulder though.

"Hey." Rush went over, eyeing the bag suspiciously. David jostled it a little.

"I'm staying over for a few days, until Emmy has her baby. It's only a short hop from here to JP's. From Ebel it takes too long."

"Wow. You really are a nice guy."

David laughed. "More like I've had enough of JP's phone calls, followed by Qubine's calls complaining about JP's calls."

Rush could totally imagine that. "Life's tough when you're popular. So you're on holiday?"

"My old partner at Royotia's working with Leanne for the time being. I suppose you can call it a holiday... as much as it can be one with a panicking father-to-be breathing down my neck, anyway."

"Ha. Nice." Probably Charlotte was fed up with her brother as well and decided it was more important for David to be here than down at Royotia.

"Say, Rush, do you need to hurry home?"

"No. Why?"

"Got something to talk about. I'll walk you out."

David dropped his bag down in a guest room, then they headed out until they were well away from the manor's grounds. When Rush made a questioning sound in his throat, David shrugged.

"Just in case you don't want people to hear."

"Sounds ominous."

"It's nothing really," said David, giving Rush a certain look. "I was talking with Nora yesterday, and she said she saw you at the club."

"Yeah? And?" Even as he asked, Rush could see where this conversation was going.

"Well, she said she saw you were getting on quite well with some guy, and according to her that must be my fault." David chuckled lightly. "I didn't say anything of course. But even if it might be my fault, calling me 'men-bender' was going a bit far."

So Nora hadn't changed a bit with her creative nicknaming ways. This was too funny to not laugh at, even if there was an element of truth to it. David had no idea how some straight men would look at him and think to themselves "I still would."

"Right, that's it, from now on you're the men-bender."

"Ah, if only," said David. "So, going places without my assistance?"

Rush's face heated up. He did, and it wasn't bad. Well, it could have been worse; the guy didn't get too pissed off when Rush changed his mind, and assumed he was just dealing with some issues.

He felt awful. He'd recently bumped into Zephyr's girlfriend at Cranktown, and the woman took one long look at him and said, "why don't you test it out?" After some thought he followed her suggestion and now it really did seem like he was just David-sexual, which had to be wrong but was the truth. And for him to start feeling this way only after watching David get drunk and do his "real human" thing? It was an insult to David and to men in general.

He couldn't let David know about that. As far as David was concerned, he went and picked up a guy and it went well.

Looking at his reddened face, David kept his smile and nodded with the exaggerated prudence of a scholar. "I see."

Rush felt like he should say something. "I don't need your help with these things."

"I didn't think you did," said David, looking away, "just glad to know it's not just me."

So it turned out Rush's worry was David's worry as well. Yup, Rush really had no chance with this guy. "Don't be so full of yourself," Rush muttered, also finding something interesting to look at.

David scratched the back of his head in an uncharacteristic way, relieved but slightly perplexed too. "Oh yes, there was something else about you that I heard."

Rush cocked his head. "You Ebel people, really. I thought I was a gossip, but am I the gossip now?"

"This one is from Paris, actually. He said you're buying a place up here. So when's the move? If you need any help, I'm good with heavy things."

"Oh that." Rush was quite proud of the purchase. A decent house at the Outer Wall, central location, pretty close to the Core Lift and the views weren't bad either. Ten years ago he'd never have thought he could afford something like that in his lifetime. "It's not for me. It's for my parents. They've been making noises at me for still living at home at my age, I looked at my savings and realised I could buy something here and move them out instead."

David seemed surprised, and took a few seconds to respond. "So you're not moving?"

"Nah. Irina and I are staying on Level 4, it's way past time for Mum and Dad to just enjoy life and not worry about us. We're gonna split the house down there into two and put in another front door, like your house. We're too old to still be living with each other really, it gets awkward."

"I see. That makes sense."

"It's gonna be awesome, I can stop by Mum and Dad's to have dinner after work before going home," said Rush, lightly punching David in the arm. "Anyway, if I was gonna move house don't you think I would've told you already?"

David just chuckled. "Of course."

Seriously, what kind of a lousy friend did David think he was? It'd be really crappy of him to just up and move away without saying anything.

Hold on. So David thought he was doing something like that and still smiled and offered to help?

"You know what, Dave?"

"What?"

"If people are being a right dick at you, you should tell them and put them in their place instead of just keep on being nice."

David shrugged. "You're not the first person to say that, but I don't make friends with dicks... except when I'm making friends with dicks."

And David knew which place to put them too. Right, excellent word choice there Rush. He could be a master at puns without even trying. "If more than one person's said it, then maybe they've got a point."

"I like to consider things from my friends' perspective."

"But do they consider things from yours? Sometimes you just gotta put your foot down and remind them you're important too."

David shook his head. "Paris threw open his doors even before I finished saying 'I need a place to stay.' JP talks to Qubine and then calls me so that I wouldn't worry about them. Qubine planned something that could've landed him in jail just so that I could get a lift pass. You shuffled your work days around to suit me," he said with a gentle smile. "My friends are the ones who remind me I'm important and help me out even when I don't know how to ask for help."

Now this was kind of embarrassing; Rush wasn't good at dealing with praise. But what was that about the lift pass? "Qubine got you that pass?"

David lowered his voice. "I found out afterwards that he arranged the whole thing in Royotia. He wasn't even going to tell me."

It wouldn't be the first criminal thing Qubine did for David that no one wasn't supposed to find out about. Never get on his bad side, Rush thought.

"In any case, Rush," David took a deep breath, his feet slowing to a stop, "am I the person here who lets friends walk all over him?"

"What—"

"We've known each other for the best part of a decade. You're always bending over backwards for me whereas I've never done a single thing for you. Have you even noticed that?"

No, he hadn't. "Um, no? I haven't needed any help, that's a good thing?"

There was a weird look in David's eyes that Rush couldn't decipher, kind of like... pain? "You're right. Anyway, I should let you get going. If Marina and John need help with the move, give me a shout. Might as well put these genetically-enhanced muscles to some use."

"Sure." Rush narrowed his eyes and gave his friend a very suspicious look, but it was ignored completely. From experience he'd have to leave this for at least a few days before trying to ask what the problem was. Or he'd figure it out himself before that. "I'll probably see you tomorrow then."

"If I don't get dragged away by JP, yes. See you."

 

"What are you doing there?" Qubine asked on the phone.

"Babysitting."

"Babysitting Jean Paulet?"

"Yes." David laughed. It wasn't as if there was anything Jean Paulet needed help with, since there were plenty of servants, but he rarely had holidays and if he decided to invite David over, David would not say no. He did clear it with Emmy first, of course. Emmy's response was something along the lines of "please come and keep him occupied, otherwise I'll have to kill him."

Jean Paulet gestured for the phone, so David passed it over. "So that's how it is. Come over and join us for tea in... well you'll need an hour just to wash that grime off yourself, so say two hours?"

David couldn't hear the reply Qubine gave, but he guessed it was "seeing your face would just make me regurgitate my tea."

"Charming. And despite your strange dietary habits, we still want you here. So put those chemicals down and come over. À bientôt!" said Jean Paulet, who gave the phone to a servant and then sat down, tugging his trousers slightly upwards at the knees as he did so.

"So."

"Yes?"

"Before Qubine gets here: how are you, mon ami?"

Jean Paulet poured coffee for them both. From the scent David could tell this was Charlotte's coffee. He could even tell which blend it was, he realised with both pride and disconcertion.

"I'm fine," he replied. There had been phone calls but they had not met up because of timing issues, and by coming here he knew there were going to be many questions. But that was okay, he didn't mind telling Jean Paulet. "Qubine and I are okay now. And I've been very busy. I was working for your sister for three days a week."

"Cafés do tend to get busier when the weather gets cold." Jean Paulet nudged himself closer and passed the coffee over. "I've been worried about you, David. I haven't been able to talk to you much."

"Your wife is heavily pregnant and you're one of the most important people in Basel."

"Still."

"It's okay. You're here for him."

"Yes, well," Jean Paulet sighed, "I have to say, he went on quite the overdrive with his work recently. That's his way of dealing with everything."

The words left David's mouth before he could help it. "I'm sorry."

That prompted Jean Paulet to give the most disapproving look he had ever given anyone.

"David, don't ever apologise for loving someone."

"I'm not. I'm just sorry about having done something about it and causing so much trouble," David paused, and added, bemused, "that came out sounding a lot more bitter than I intended."

His friend's face dropped. "If only I hadn't—"

"You were very persuasive, but in the end the decision was mine."

Jean Paulet tasted his coffee, then reached for the sugar. "So... why did it take you so long?"

"Hmm?"

"You were pretty much in love with him since the first week of college, non?"

People often underestimated Jean Paulet because he looked so harmless. Even David made that mistake once in a while, and this was one of them. "Second week!" he said with mild mocked offense. He was sure he had been very discreet back then, how did Jean Paulet know? "And... it's complicated."

"Try me, mon ami."

Strange, Jean Paulet usually would have backed off by now. There were things that David couldn't say — even if he didn't mind talking about his past, Qubine's mother was long dead and nobody needed to know what she'd done; it would only make the good work Pater was doing go to waste. Besides, telling Jean Paulet something that might damage his faith just seemed too terrible a thing to do.

"I just didn't think I had a chance. Also, imagine what would have happened if I was found 'messing around' with someone who was in line to be the next Cardinal. The politics behind my stay in that house was complicated enough as it was, to risk all the goodwill I was given by acting on a crush was just out of the question."

"Really? You strike me as the type who would risk everything for love."

David chuckled. "Not if the risk was to be kicked all the way back down to Crank."

"Cranktown?" said Jean Paulet after a moment, under his breath.

The fearful looks, the empty smiles, the pretense. The disaster at the seminary. The death of the cardinal in charge. For a while it was almost taboo for a cardinal to even mention that town — were the murders under God's roof His way of expressing dissatisfaction at the state of the town? Was it His decision to punish the young and helpless? Was the cardinal's death His warning to everyone?

"David... were you an orphan by any chance?"

David nodded. He hadn't had family for years before moving to Chandelier. As for friends, Zephyr had killed them all. He could still remember hearing about the disaster and knowing right away who the "bedevilled boy" must be. That Zephyr wasn't killed upon the cardinals' order, as the news said at the time, was the surprise. When David met this old friend again years later, it was the first time in a long time that he nearly burst into tears. He wasn't angry that Zephyr had killed all the others, but the knowledge that he had suffered alone for so long...

"Sorry, mon ami, I've made you uncomfortable."

"Oh no, I was just thinking about things. But how did you know that?"

"It's... just a guess."

Jean Paulet was far from being the best liar in the world. David arched an eyebrow.

"Cardinal."

Jean Paulet fidgeted a bit. "I did recently talk to someone about Cranktown and the orphans there, that's why it came to my mind. Also, when you first arrived Paris said your mother died a long time ago. And I've never heard you talk about any family."

It was rare that Jean Paulet shied away from telling the whole truth and David didn't know if he should press for a better answer or not.

"Did you tell Qubine about this? Am I the only one who didn't know?"

"Talking about the past isn't constructive," said David, weighing up what he wanted to against what he could tell his friend, "and there were things that happened that I don't want to mention and you two are better off not knowing."

The devastation in Jean Paulet's eyes was clear. He just stared, saying nothing, until David sighed.

"It's easier to move on from something if fewer people know about it, that's all. Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not... I— I just need the bathroom. Excusez-moi."

David watched Jean Paulet walk away. For the first time, he could not even begin to fathom what was going on in his best friend's head.

 

Qubine showed up earlier than expected, breezing through the manor's corridors in his usual long coat that had become his trademark, his hair tied back in the usual fashion, and sporting a stubble that was entirely new to David.

"JP's gone to check on Emmy," said David as he poured tea for his friend. He would ask about the facial hair but it didn't seem appropriate to comment on Qubine's looks after confessing that he was interested in him.

Qubine nodded, taking a look around. "This room is far less gaudy than I remembered. The redecorating must be going well."

"There has been a lot of redecorating; you should see the baby's room."

"I don't need to. The thought of Jean Paulet spawning is enough to give me nightmares already."

"I thought your nightmares would either involve a fire at your workshop or you finding a hole in that coat."

"Actually, I'm prepared for one of those scenarios: there are copies of my research stored elsewhere. But I shall be quite sad the day this gives up the ghost," Qubine checked the hem of said item of clothing. "I should have bought a few more of these when they were still being made."

"You can always get a tailor to replicate it."

"I probably will."

As Qubine walked over for his tea, Jean Paulet returned, gasping with great drama as soon as he set eyes on the new arrival.

"No no no no no, mon ami! Remove that growth from your face! You cannot pull off the bearded look!"

One hand covering his mouth and the other putting down his cup, David tried to hold back his laughter watching his friends do that eye-each-other-with-great-disapproval dance.

"I wasn't deliberately trying to grow a beard; shaving was just unnecessary if I wasn't leaving the house, and then I forgot about it while getting ready earlier. But now that you've pointed it out, I think I shall keep it."

Jean Paulet covered his eyes with a hand. "Oh, why do you never listen to me? David, say something."

"Believe it or not, I'm actually quite jealous. I can't even grow a whisker." It was probably the combined result of genes and his slow aging. David didn't mind at all — putting a sharp instrument near his own throat every morning would just tempt him to do things that would result in a lot of blood — but it was fun to watch Jean Paulet get worked up, even if he did agree that Qubine looked better without the stubble.

Anyway, it wasn't as if he had to physically touch it. If Rhagoh decided to grow a beard when they were dating, there would have been a few grumbles. David wasn't going to get a chance to kiss Qubine.

"Don't side with him! Oh, mon dieu, next time I'm going to ambush you with a barber."

Qubine's reaction was a quick roll of his eyes. Then they all sat down and did some catching up, which turned into mostly just Jean Paulet telling them things. This wasn't vastly different from how their meet ups usually were.

Before Qubine arrived, Jean Paulet asked David what he wanted to do, whether from now on he wanted to act as if nothing had happened, or be open with his feelings and Qubine would just have to deal with it. Either way Jean Paulet would play along. But as tempting as the second option was, even if they made fun of it, over time Qubine would start to feel unfairly pressured. So David told his friend that he would rather everything went back to the way it was before.

So right now, listening to Jean Paulet talk about Cardinal Theresa's Christmas plans, David felt safe and comfortable, and he was grateful for how accommodating and forgiving his friends were even though what he did nearly ruined a decade of friendship. Rush was so wrong about David's friends — he was the one who walked all over them and was forgiven every time.

"David?"

His attention returning to the present, David noticed that both of his friends were looking at him with slightly concerned expressions. "Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. I was wondering if your baby is going to be a boy or a girl."

"We'll find out soon enough. I'm happy with boy or girl as long as both mother and child are safe." Jean Paulet smiled.

"There used to be a way to find out the sex of an unborn child using ultrasound," said Qubine. "But there isn't the equipment to do this anymore."

"Like most of the good things they had in the past?" ask David, who had heard more than a handful of similar stories from Qubine before. Wireless phones that fitted inside a trouser pocket. Televisions the thickness of a book and the size of a bed. Digital books. Super powerful computers. The theories and production methods were well-recorded, but Basel lacked the resources to mass produce these things. Qubine did produce or refurbished many of the smaller gadgets for himself, though, and sometimes as gifts for others — the wireless home telephone was very popular amongst the cardinals.

"Our ancestors invented it all, and then ruined it all." Qubine sipped his tea. "In any case, the traditional way is still the most reliable: wait and see."

An idea popped into David's head. "Want to bet?"

"On something that is 50-50 chance?" asked Qubine, incredulous.

"I say it's going to be a boy."

Qubine sighed. "Fine, girl for me then. What does the winner get?"

"Nothing. But if you lose, you'll shave."

Qubine's gaze moved from David to Jean Paulet, who suddenly looked very pleased by the possibly of Qubine being smooth-faced again and would have thrown his arms around David were they not separated by a small table. "And what if you lose?"

David gave this a quick thought. There really wasn't much he could offer. "I spray my hair green for a week," he said, then frowned slightly. "This seems to be too heavily in your favour. If you lose, you should shave off your beard _and_ take Cardinal Rowen out for a drink."

This raised the difficulty level significantly — neither Qubine nor Cardinal Rowen were the sociable type. Just the idea of Qubine going anywhere with Rowen, the very top governor of Basel who was twenty years his senior, without it being in a work context was strange enough.

Qubine twitched as Jean Paulet giggled. "And if you lose, you will do the same?"

"Would trying count? I don't know if he even remembers who I am. He might turn me down."

"To give you a better chance, you can wait until afterwards to change your hair colour."

Well, it was only Rowen. David could count the times he'd talked to the man in one hand but if his memory was correct, Rowen was quite pleasant to talk to if you were not put off by the constant frown. A man who put his heart and soul into bettering Basel. David wouldn't mind buying Rowen a drink if he could.

"You're on."

 

"Zephyr, it's David."

"Huh? Did you forget something at home?"

"No, just calling to check on you."

"Check on me?"

"Yes."

"What the hell for?"

"Because I worry about you."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"I'm fine. Are you having fun?"

"For a given value of fun. There is now 50% chance I will have to try to ask Cardinal Rowen out for a drink."

"What?"

David explained the situation.

"Right. Tell me when that happens so that I can go watch."

"Sure. Oh, Rush isn't moving house after all. The new house is for his parents."

"Hmm. I remember you mentioning that. He ain't doing a runner then."

"I wouldn't have called it a 'runner', but no, he isn't leaving. Sometimes you just can't tell what people are thinking."

"I can see where this is going."

"I think you should hang in there for Roeas."

"Hmm."

"If you need me for anything, you know where I am. Come get me. Even if Jean Paulet's wife is in labour, you're still more important."

Another stunned silence.

"I got reminded that my friends do this for me, so I'm doing the same for you. Don't ever think you're trivial or inconsequential; if something bad happens to you I'll be beyond upset."

Zephyr still didn't say anything.

"Fine, I'll say it straight: don't die on me, okay?"

The reply David received was quiet, slow and considered.

"If you can swear on the same thing yourself..."

"I have. I already told you the other day, shouted it... not from, towards the roof top."

"So what's this? A reverse suicide pact?"

"Something like that."

A snort.

"Fine. You're on."


	29. Je ne Sais Quoi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Rowen appears! XD (After being mentioned about 20 times so far throughout the story...)
> 
> As mentioned in the background post, in this story he wasn't involved in Sullivan's crimes, therefore he doesn't suffer the same guilty conscience as you saw in the video.

[AR1140, winter]

Eyebrows were raised ever so slightly when David ordered a juice. It was a look he was used to.

"I don't drink."

Rowen slowly nodded, confused, and hesitated when he was asked what he would like to have. David closed his menu and put it down.

"Don't worry about me. I'm just allergic to alcohol, I'm not against it."

Rowen seemed relieved and ordered a whisky. After all this time, David was still surprised that Basel was ruled by someone as simple as Rowen. Not simple in the sense that he was stupid or childish, but just... delightfully straightforward. A man who meant what he said and played no mind games. And he had the same worries about the little things as everyone else.

Even though David knew Rowen's personality didn't quite match the severe look he always wore on his face, it was still astonishing that he agreed to come with David for a drink. He even recalled who David was straight away. Jean Paulet and Qubine were both watching, of course, but what their reaction was to the smooth progress of events, David could not tell. Now they were probably somewhere in the bar watching too, but he tried not to think about it.

"It's been some time since I last saw you. How are you doing?"

"I'm living in Ebel City. Life is quite full-on all the time."

"Hmm." Rowen frowned at the table as if it had done something wrong. "Yes, I remember your departure from Chandelier under the most ridiculous circumstances. I apologise for not stepping in at the time."

Cardinal Rowen, apologising to him for something like that? David wondered if he misheard something. "It had nothing to do with you."

Their drinks were served. It seemed like being the top man of Basel had its perks, speed of service being one of them.

"Of course it had. Those people were under my chain of command. But at the time, many things were in a precarious balance. If I was to use my authority..."

"It's in the past already. To be honest, I didn't even think you'd notice. The fact that you remember who I am is already a surprise."

Rowen brought his tumbler to his lips and drank. Not one who sipped his whisky, then.

"You showed a lot of leadership potential; people like you I don't forget. And it is very gracious of you to forgive my lack of action. You are very mature for your age."

The last few words made David pause. "How old do you think I am?"

"Late teens, early twenties?"

David nearly laughed. "I was 18 when I went with Paris to your office to talk about cardinalship. That was almost nine years ago."

"Has it been that long? Heavens." Rowen cast his gaze towards the ceiling briefly before returning to David. "You look exactly the same, that must be what's made me confused."

"I do always look younger than I really am. Perhaps in the beginning I should have told everyone I'm younger than Paris. I could have got away with it and saved a lot of trouble," said David. "People say time passes in a blur when life is good though, so it's a good thing you don't realise how long it's been."

Rowen finished his drink and set his tumbler down a bit heavily. "How I wish that was true."

If he was the type of man who would feel guilty about not helping David despite it not really being any of his business, then it wasn't much of a surprise that Rowen felt life was not so rosy. In this world, people who cared too much hurt too much.

"If you want to stay sane, you need to overlook some details. There is too much wrong for you to try to make right," David said, and when Rowen stared at him, he dipped his head, embarrassed. "Sorry. You don't need me to tell you what to do. There's just someone I know who is a lot like you in that respect."

Not that he had ever tried to tell Qubine to stop fixing the world, but his feelings about it were pretty clear. For Cardinal Rowen, at least he was guided to do this by his faith. For Qubine, who didn't seem like the type to care and wouldn't live long enough to see the changes. it was contradictory that this was how he chose to spend his life.

"It's fine, you have a point." Rowen waved at someone and pointed at his empty glass. "But what would the world be like if we kept pushing our problems onto the next person rather than try to solve them?"

"We end up with Basel," David muttered.

The look he got from Rowen was sharp, and worried. David quickly smiled to ease the tension. "Qubine is one of my best friends. He talks a lot about how Basel came to exist."

Even as he said these words, David began to understand what motivated men like Rowen and Qubine, people who knew more of the truth behind their world — it was sadness and frustration, not love. They were saddened by the way Basel was. Perhaps they couldn't even stand Basel itself. And because they were unlikely to survive beyond its bounds, they sought to change it from within.

For David, who might be able to survive the world outside, leaving was still not an option because there was nothing out there for him. Everyone he cared about was here. He stayed for love.

He wondered if Qubine would grow old to become someone like Rowen, with so much sadness behind his eyes. Rowen probably even knew about Zenith and quartz; the timing between the spread of sudden death syndrome and mining activities becoming heavily restricted by the top Cardinals seemed to suggest this to be the case.

Cared too much about lives that were ultimately decided by a machine, trying to help people keep their faith when his own was only a hollow shell. No wonder Rowen seemed so lonely.

"Well, it's good to hear Qubine does have some friends," said Rowen after finally deciding on how to respond. "With his workload I'm surprised that he manages to maintain any social relationship."

David chuckled to hide the realisation that Rowen probably didn't have many friends himself. "And yet you continue to work him to the ground."

Rowen looked a little offended. "I show him what tasks need to be done but rarely set him deadlines. Recently he is so deep into his personal project he has refused new work from me."

"Hmm. How strange."

"Indeed." Rowen drank from his new glass of whisky. "So what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a hunter."

The hand lowering the glass paused briefly in mid-air. "That's what you choose to do after the way you've been treated? Help us clean up the problems we can't solve?"

"Don't go piling on the responsibilities; every person has a role to play." Perhaps not every person, David thought, but that was a minor detail. "I quite enjoy it."

"I have to say... it's hard for me to imagine you being a hunter."

"Oh, the things you don't know."

At David's grin, Rowen blinked in bewilderment, then relaxed and smiled in return.

"You're a very strange young man."

 

Seated some distance away, Jean Paulet and Qubine hadn't really bothered to hide themselves because there wasn't a need to. They watched in amazement as the "ice man" Cardinal Rowen warmed up to David and even began to smile.

"This is not natural," Jean Paulet muttered under his breath. He couldn't recall ever having seen Rowen smiling. Rowen had always looked like a tortured soul to him, a lonely man who refused to be rescued. That was why even Cardinal Veronique gave up on him and got married, right? "I don't really mean it's not natural but... I know David has a certain je ne sais quoi when it comes to people but still, this is Rowen!"

"I..." Even Qubine was at a loss for words for a moment. "I guess David can be quite the charmer when he chooses to be."

David left his table and headed for the bathroom. They both quieted down when, on his way back, David quite innocently spotted them and wandered over. He was appropriately dressed for Level 1 in his black shirt and smart trousers, but the sleeves were casually rolled up and a necklace could just about be seen from the open collar.

"Fancy bumping into you two here. Having a good evening?"

That mischievous gleam in David's eyes made Jean Paulet laugh. "Très bien, merci. Et toi?"

"It's lovely. Great company. Turns out it's a good thing I lost the bet."

"Good to know, mon ami." Qubine still shaved anyway, thank heavens. Jean Paulet noticed Rowen looking their way, and nodded in greeting. "You've shown us a side of Rowen we didn't know existed."

"Like I said, I'm genuinely enjoying his company. Are you two going to be here for long?"

"I need to go home to my girls soon. How about you, Qubine?"

Qubine, who had stayed silent all this time, only gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Well, I'll leave you two be. Enjoy yourselves." With that, David went back to his sofa seat at the corner of the bar.

It was a bizarre thing to see. Jean Paulet could swear David now sat nearer to Rowen on the sofa than he did before, and tipped his head closer too when they talked. Evening had just edged into night and the bar had turned up the music, which probably had something to do with it and Jean Paulet found himself nudging nearer to Qubine as well just to converse, but...

"Mon dieu." Was David flirting with Rowen? Jean Paulet glanced at Qubine, and could tell the same thought had just crossed his friend's mind.

And then David literally leaned over, cupped his hands around Rowen's ear and said something. Face reddening, Rowen shot David a weird look and began to laugh.

"David is doing this because he wants to see us squirm." Jean Paulet couldn't decide if this was horrific or fascinating, but they simply looked like two people enjoying each other's company and that just felt wrong. "Rowen is old enough to be his father."

"It's not as if he's twelve. He's long past the age of consent, there's nothing wrong with it." The tightness in Qubine's voice was evident.

"And you say that because you're not bitter even in the slightest."

The impassive look Qubine gave in response to that was more worrying than anything else. In the short moment between his observation and Jean Paulet's jab, his defences had shot right up.

"I'm only uncomfortable because I have to work with Rowen."

"But as long as David is happy?"

A frown of annoyance was Qubine's reply.

"David told me the other day that he was an orphan and he used to live in Cranktown," said Jean Paulet, fully aware that he was wading into very murky waters. "He's one of the survivors from that disaster, n'est-ce pas? And he doesn't know that you already know?"

Qubine visibly paled. Jean Paulet had a hand on his friend's arm before he could move away.

"Now everything you do makes sense. All those years you slaved away in that workshop." He did it all out of love. Heavens, Jean Paulet had no idea his friend was such a romantic. "But you would rather let him go? Really?"

David said that the fewer people knew about his past, the sooner he could move on from it. But Jean Paulet couldn't agree with that if the result still involved so much suffering.

There was still no admittance nor denial from Qubine, who firmly pulled his arm free and reached for his drink. But then after staring at it, he left it alone.

"Don't ever," finally he said with gritted teeth, "even try to suggest to him that you know more than he thinks you do. He can be who he wants to be and choose how to live his life because of our ignorance. Don't take that away from him."

So it was true. Jean Paulet had hoped he was wrong. To know that David had once been through the most unthinkable suffering, and Qubine was so protective of this secret, Jean Paulet felt like his chest was about to burst.

Emmy might say that he was no coward, but just where was he when everyone was hurting?

"But if he loves you?"

Qubine's eye were fixed on David. "There are at least two people who know about his past, and he trusts them to help him. I'm not one of these people. I'd broached the subject more than once but he wouldn't even mention Cranktown to me."

There were people who helped David deal with his past, so their role, as David had designated for them, was to let him move on from it, was that what Qubine meant?

"The closer you hold someone to your heart, the harder it is to voice some things. You of all people should know that. And maybe he just doesn't want to hurt you because your family was involved. It doesn't mean he feels he can't trust you."

Qubine's answer to that was simple. "I can't gamble on it."

Qubine was right. The price to pay was too huge from both sides.

Jean Paulet pulled away from his friend and leaned back into his seat, defeated. Was there nothing he could do? Was trust truly that important? Was it better to let David be convinced that he was not loved?

"Jean Paulet," said Qubine suddenly, staring into his glass again.

"Oui?"

"You're a good friend. Stay the way you are." Qubine drained his glass. "And yes, if he's happy that's enough for me. That is the end of this conversation."

Those were words he was never going to hear again, Jean Paulet knew.

"Let's get another round."

 

"Well. This is embarrassing."

They stopped briefly. Rowen found a wall to lean against, muttering an apology.

"No problem. You are much taller but I'm stronger than I look," said David with a smile.

Rowen wasn't that drunk, but he didn't get much sleep last night because of work and hadn't had supper today — David did make disapproving noises when he found out — so he was wobbly on his feet even after not drinking that much. He said he would call his bodyguard to come for him, but David was well aware how staff could talk especially if the man they served was so inebriated he needed help getting home. It would be far better for Rowen to make it home on his own. Apparently this was very considerate of David, which Rowen was thankful for.

Of course, in Jean Paulet and Qubine's eyes, David and Rowen had now left the bar together, but he hardly worried about what they thought. It did look like the two were talking a lot and drinking quite a bit though, and he wished he had superior hearing rather than being good in the dark, so that he could hear the conversation.

"I am not often like this, in case you are worried." Rowen chuckled, black fringe tumbling forward to cover his eyes. "Then again, I've never been much of a social drinker. You've been very good company, thank you."

"I'm glad I could help you wind down," said David. "Next time, just make sure you get some food in you first." Rowen seemed like a relatively healthy man. But he was like Qubine in some ways, and David hoped this was just a blip and Rowen ate regular meals.

"Next time?"

David shrugged. During the night he discovered that Rowen wasn't always so serious, but circumstances and the people around him were. It would be good for him to have some different company.

"I wouldn't mind, if you need a drinking buddy. Just don't be offended by my fruit juice."

"That's very generous of you."

"Why do you say that? It's not like I didn't have fun."

Rowen eyed David. "You don't mind spending time with an old man like me?"

"If you don't mind hanging out with a kid like me."

Rowen seemed amused.

David took a look to see where they were; he hadn't been to Rowen's house before but he knew where it was, as did many people in Basel. From here on Rowen should make the rest of the way back himself so that it didn't look like he had or needed any help with the journey.

Following David's eyes, Rowen seemed to have had the same thought. He pushed himself off the wall. "Thanks. I can walk the rest myself." He paused as a thought came to him. "How would I contact you in the future?"

"Oh." David tugged out his wallet and got out his business card. When Vashyron had them printed he told David to make sure to give them to all the Cardinals. He would be ecstatic if he found out Rowen now had one.

They exchanged thank-yous and good-byes, then parted ways.

It had been an unexpectedly pleasant night. David had played it up back in the bar when his friends were watching, but he honestly would not mind seeing Rowen again. Giving him his number did make it look like there was dubious intent, but Rowen asked for it first, and that was also what new friends did, right?

Right?


	30. Friendzone

[AR1140, winter]

The first thing David did after returning to Ebel, apart from spray his hair green, was to join a job Zephyr had picked up, partly because he ought to help after being away for a week and partly because he really needed the exercise; going to the shooting range with Qubine and Jean Paulet just wasn't the same thing.

Nearing their home after a satisfying trip to Freud Remnants, they heard a voice from above.

"Nice hair."

Roeas was on their roof.

"I aim to please," said David, not quite sure if he should smile at the woman who broke his friend's heart.

Roeas did smile at him though, then focused her attention on Zephyr.

"Can we talk?"

 

David spent the next half an hour fidgeting, drinking tea, and then fidgeting some more. He couldn't hear what Zephyr and Roeas were talking about on the roof and there was no way to tell what was even happening. He just hoped they were actually having make up sex in Zephyr's room, but the look on Roeas's face earlier was just too serious.

And then, all of a sudden, the hatch above his head opened with a long squeak. He looked up and saw Zephyr peering down.

"Hey, you know that big hold-all you've got? Can I borrow it?"

"Of course." David went to get it from his room. Seeing the bag made him feel a little nostalgic; this was what he used when he packed to leave Paris's house two years ago.

Zephyr dropped downstairs. "Thanks."

David studied his friend's face. Something weird was going on, but he couldn't tell what it was. And where was Zephyr going that he needed a hold-all for?

"I will want this back," said David, narrowing his eyes, his hand not relinquishing the item yet.

"Unlike some people, I don't just go AWOL." A soft smile found its way to Zephyr's mouth. "Tell the others I'm going away for a week."

"A week? Come on, give it two!" came Roeas's voice as she jumped down as well. David shifted his gaze over Zephyr's shoulder onto her, much more at ease after having seen Zephyr's smile.

"Look after Zephyr."

She nodded at him; she knew he was serious.

They went back upstairs to pack, and then they were gone.

 

"A week? Where to and who with?"

David recalled that Zephyr didn't actually say "tell the others I'm going away with Roeas," so he should probably leave that detail out, like a liberal mother covering up the tracks for her adventuring son.

"I don't know."

"Huh, that's weird," said Vashyron around his cigarette. He was only an occasional smoker who never managed to quit properly. "I noticed Roeas hasn't dropped by and he hasn't stayed out for a while, wonder if it's to do with that."

"He seems all right when he left, I wouldn't worry."

"Then why are you making that face?"

Oh, how should he say this? "I was very worried about him, but now things seem okay and he just... went all of a sudden."

Vashyron had a knowing look. "You feel used?"

On the one hand, David was relieved he didn't have to find the words to explain. On the other, he wished his feeling wasn't ever affirmed.

"I am very glad he is all right, and I wasn't expecting him to do anything for me or tell me how grateful he was."

"But a little appreciation'd be nice."

"I know he appreciates. It's just..." David sighed. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's okay to feel a bit bummed when people suddenly stop needing you. I'd be, too."

David thought about this. "You know, maybe I'm just envious that he is happy."

"And there's something stopping you from being happy too?"

"A lot of things."

"Forget about them and go do something different."

"Like what? Women?"

"Keep your grubby hands off my catch!" Vashyron laughed. "I know what you're like, there's nothing you don't overcome eventually. Give yourself a break and just go and have some fun. Sort things out later."

"I might just try that. Thanks, daddy."

"Oi, I thought you're the mummy in this house," said Vashyron, who then shuddered. "Thank god we sleep in separate rooms. No offense, but."

"As long as you don't mind that I bring guys back, feel free to have as many affairs as you like."

"This is exactly my ideal marriage."

The phone downstairs began to ring when they laughed. David jumped down to take the call.

"Hello? Yes, speaking... oh, no I'm not busy... sure, why not. I'll see you in a bit."

He went to stand under the hatch.

"I'm heading out. Taking your suggestion and doing something different for a change."

One of Vashyron's eyebrows rose, as well as the corner of his lips.

"Doing something, or _doing_ something?"

"The former. Meeting up with a friend."

"Yeah, that's what you call Rush too."

It was Vashyron. He would say that out loud rather than just think it.

"Goodness, were we that loud last time?" David laughed in embarrassment. "He is still a friend."

"Totally friendzoned, hmm?" asked Vashyron. "Well, I'm out tonight and so is Leanne, apparently, so the house's all yours. Just so you know."

David rolled his eyes, laughed and waved when Vashyron winked and clicked his tongue at him, then grabbed a hat and jacket and headed out.

"Friendzoned"? He'd never done anything of that sort to Rush. Rush was the one who friendzoned him from the start.

 

The more famous someone was, the better they were at finding nooks and crannies to hide in. Luckily David knew Café Charlotte very well and could easily guess which table Rowen must have chosen to sit down at.

The first thing Rowen did was stare at David's hair, tufts of green poking out from under his trilby, and then his far-less-smart attire compared with the last time they met. He was still in all black — all other colours clashed like hell with the green — but he was wearing jeans this time, and his gun holsters were in plain sight.

"I lost a bet," David explained, putting down the coffee he'd grabbed from the counter on his way in before sitting down.

The idea amused Rowen.

"Yes I look like a tree. Laugh if you want."

"It does make an interesting combination with your skin tone." Rowen watched David add milk and sugar to his coffee. "Thank you for coming. I had to be down at Level 6 earlier. On the way back I recalled this place you mentioned, and decided to have a look."

And sit down, and have a coffee, and ask a friend out. David was glad that this man did know how to take a break, after all, and actually carried his number on him. "I'm not sure if she's here today, but Charlotte owns the business," he said, then decided to add, in case Rowen didn't know who he meant, "Jean Paulet's sister Charlotte."

Rowen thought about this. "I met her briefly at Jean Paulet's wedding, and when I visited him and his newborn."

"Agnetha's a surprisingly quiet baby, isn't she, considering who her father is."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Well JP — I mean Jean Paulet can be a bit... overexcited."

"I have heard that he is quite different in private, but at the council he is always very professional."

Huh, that was quite unexpected. "You should see what he's like when he's not working. There's all the dancing, dramatic gestures, peppering everything he says with a dead language... endlessly entertaining."

"I will have to take your word for it. My work colleagues are always formal around me both in and outside of work."

David could see why Rowen said last time he wasn't a social drinker — he had very few friends, and the people he worked with were far too uptight, most likely because Rowen was an important man. That sort of work atmosphere would drive David mad. He wondered how Jean Paulet and Pater coped.

"You'll catch him off guard one day. Just last night he was on the phone yammering on about wanting another baby when this one is barely a week old. Even I haven't seen him that excited before."

"Having children is a good thing. The population is aging."

An aging population, but not enough resources to support more children. Basel was pretty much doomed in David's opinion. "You know, you could always lead by example."

"Find a bride just to have children? That would be exploitation. Anyway, the responsibility rests on your generation."

"I don't mean finding someone only to have children with, but oh well." David held both his hands up. "Don't count on me, I have no interest in women."

David guessed this was Rowen's way to double-check, though for what reason he couldn't guess because he was quite sure his antics at the bar last time, although they were clearly done as jokes, already made it obvious and Rowen was just laughing it off.

"I see," said Rowen. "I will have a word with Jean Paulet and his wife and ask them to work hard at it then."

"Don't need the mental images, thanks."

A small shadow fell over the table. Charlotte had come by, with the ever-present notebook in her hand, and a twitch in her lips as she tried to maintain her usual composure and not laugh at David's hair.

"Please contact Torgal and arrange taking over the supervision again. Also, here are this week's targets." She extracted a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

"I've called Torgal this morning, we've sorted it out," said David, folding the paper and slipping it in his chest pocket without looking at it. "Sorry Charlotte, can we talk later?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes at him "What are—" Only then did she spot Rowen on the other side of the table. She gasped. "Gosh, where are my manners. My apologies, Cardinal." She did a small bow. "I thought you were my brother. I'm very sorry."

Amicable words were exchanged before Charlotte left, still red-faced.

"I come here a lot with Jean Paulet, I guess that's why she didn't notice you," said David. This was the first time he saw Charlotte so embarrassed and it was pretty funny. "Despite you being a whole foot taller."

Rowen chuckled graciously. "The garb probably doesn't help."

David leaned back into his seat, taking his coffee with him. "Another — shallow, but true — reason why I'm glad I'm not in that job: I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that uniform." He thought about what he just said. "That came out wrong. I mean you look great in it, but imagine me wearing the same thing."

And after these words, he mentally kicked himself: what was he doing? Nobody was watching anymore, so stop flirting.

Rowen actually snorted. "Certainly not with that hair."

"Hey now. Last I heard, your council is trying to move forward with the times and present a modern image. Maybe you should try a new hair colour too."

"Wild colours only work on good looking people like you."

If David was only slightly less composed he would have spilled his drink. Instead he put it down and made a show of scrutinising Rowen's face.

"I reckon you'll be just fine, then."

David had met people before who would make it a point to flirt with him. This was a classic "look, I'm not a homophobe" flirt and he would have recognised it even faster had it not been Rowen who said it.

The topic changed from hair colour to coffee to festivals to books in the next couple of hours. Rowen had a particular interest in translated literature from a land that had ceased to exist for millennia, and could name authors and their series of writings.

"I think I've got that series. Qubine told me to read it but I'll be honest, I couldn't get into it at all."

"Do you have the entire collection? Would you have Volume 4 and beyond?"

"I think so. You want to borrow them?"

"If you don't mind, yes please. I've been searching for them for a long time."

"Qubine gave them to me, I think they came from Cardinal Antourion's library," said David. "I could take them with me next time I go to Chandelier."

Rowen nodded a bit stiffly, as if there was something he wanted to say but thought the better of it.

Right, David thought. That was a bit cute. He had always got on better with people who had a slight obsessive trait of some kind. Enthusiasm was attractive.

"Or if you have time, come by mine and pick them up now?"

"If that is all right?" Embarrassed, Rowen looked down. "I admire these works a lot and it has been a very long search."

David just laughed at him. "Let's go."

 

Asking Rowen to wait outside would be rude, and inviting a cardinal like him inside would be strange. As always David opted to be strange rather than rude, so now Rowen was standing in his living room looking around whilst he located the volumes.

"Quite a change from a manor, right?" he called out from his room.

"Yes," Rowen admitted this was exactly what was on his mind.

"I quite like it actually. I do miss having all my meals cooked for me and not having to do any cleaning, but I don't have to watch my behaviour."

"Do you find living in Chandelier restrictive?"

"Not Chandelier itself. I love Chandelier." David pulled out a box from under his bed after checking all his shelves. "I just don't like the idea of causing Paris trouble somehow, especially now that he's a cardinal."

"Being a public figure does affects everyone around that person."

"I'm not complaining, but don't tell Paris, okay? He tends to take too much to heart. Anyway, he's still getting used to the attention I think. He's determined, but it doesn't change the fact that he's shy."

"It's not an impossible matter to overcome. For example, when I wear something other than this garb, I am rarely recognised."

"That's because you've been wearing it in every public appearance for twenty years." Thinking about it, David had never seen Rowen not in his uniform either. He could believe that people wouldn't notice him.

"If Paris seems to be struggling I will give him some advice."

"Thanks, Rowen."

David located the books in the second box he looked in. They exchanged hands, Rowen thanked him and it was long past time for him to get back to work. So he went, leaving David thinking that he should at least make Rowen some tea next time. It felt like there was going to be a next time.

What a day. He'd been on a job with Zephyr, saw Roeas, watched Zephyr go away for god knows how long, confessed to Vashyron about his own pettiness, gone out to see a Rowen and brought Rowen home. All this on the first day he came back from Chandelier and being around his friends there for a week. But at least he proved Vashyron wrong about what he did with friends when he brought them home.

And now the house was going to be empty, save him, for the day. This was a good thing since David felt like he was all socialised-out. Apparently this was possible even for someone like him who lived for being with people. A night alone with dinner on his lap and some books sounded lovely. Maybe he could even give the ones both Qubine and Rowen liked another try.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Dave? Wanna do dinner?"

"If you buy something and come to mine."

"Right, be there soon."

Well, he was socialised-out, but he could and would always make room in his life for Rush.


	31. Happy Endings

[AR1140, winter]

The music box played a beautiful melody, if the tune was not a little on the melancholic side. Still, it was soothing and Jean Paulet could tell his daughter loved it.

Sometimes, even when Agnetha was elsewhere, Jean Paulet would wind up the mechanism and sit there, listening to the music. Agnetha would never understand the significance of this gift from Uncle Qubine and Uncle David, and that was fine. Jean Paulet only hoped she would grow up and find the love of her life, and be able to be with that person. None of this "I'm sorry I messed it all up" or "if he's happy, it's enough for me." None of that.

To think that he once called Qubine a coward when his friend was just doing what he could to protect David. And that included inaction on his own feelings. And David, after trying for years to ignore how he felt, in the end still loved the son of the one who wrecked his life.

David was a man who would do anything for those he loved. But Jean Paulet wondered if David loved himself at all. He wondered if either of them did.

"Jean."

Emmy was back from her evening jog. She came to the crib to check on her baby.

"Did you have a good run?"

She nodded. "The weather's very nice. Oh, you'll never believe who I saw."

Jean Paulet waited for the reveal.

"Qubine, your amigo."

"Him? In the great outdoors? What was he doing?"

"Running."

This was truly a surprise. "Are you sure it was him?"

Emmy nodded again. "I didn't talk to him but it was definitely Qubine." She smirked at her husband. "He's got a bit of form too, so I guess he's been doing it for a while. Looks like you're the only one who's sitting on his bum being unhealthy."

This wasn't the first time Emmy tried to get Jean Paulet to go with her in her mission to shift her baby weight. "Who's going to look after Agnetha then?"

"We have a lot of staff. Give them something to do."

Maybe all the "your caveman lifestyle will kill you" talk was finally getting through to him. If even Qubine was doing it, then Jean Paulet really had to tone up too, otherwise he would look like a slob next to his trim friends and also be accused of being a hypocrite. Curses.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll join you tomorrow."

 

"Seriously?"

"My wife said it, it can't be wrong."

And the first thing Jean Paulet did with the information was to pass it on. David liked that. Life should go on just as before and they should never stop being friends who lovingly gossip about each other all the time.

"I'm glad. Fingers crossed he doesn't get obsessed with this too and overdo it," David mused. "Though, it would be interesting if he starts getting all ripped..."

"Mon dieu! The mere thought of it!" cried Jean Paulet with a shuddering voice.

"What's the reason behind it though?"

"Je ne sais pas! Midlife crisis perhaps?"

"Maybe... he's met someone?"

There was a pause. "Impossible, David."

The certainty in Jean Paulet's voice was quite a surprise and David didn't know what to make of it. Beside him, Rush gathered their mugs and headed to the kitchen.

"Another drink, Dave?"

"Yes please."

Jean Paulet picked up on the voice. "Oh, but have _you_ met someone?" he asked in his best attempt at doing a sleazy tone. "Should I hang up?"

David rolled his eyes. "It's just Rush. We were having pizza."

That earned him a half-hearted protest from Rush. "Oi, what do you mean, _just_ Rush?"

What Vashyron said earlier in the day about Rush came to mind. The thought stayed with David even after Jean Paulet wound up their conversation and he put down the phone. What if Rush did want more from him? After all these years the idea seemed beyond impossible, but a few months ago he wouldn't have thought he would have Rush in his bed either. In so many ways, Rush was already practically his boyfriend — he was the first person David usually turned to if there was a problem, and he knew David better than anyone in the world. If David wanted a relationship now, he really could not do better than going out with Rush.

But he didn't want to date Rush. Not because he didn't love Rush a lot — he would go as far as saying that life would be unbearable without this friend — but those feelings clearly weren't the same as the ones he had for Qubine, and he was totally sure Rush didn't enjoy casual relationships, which was all David could offer. And if Zenith tried to interfere with Rush's life too, David thought he might go to the top of Basel and blow up that machine regardless of consequences.

In any case, Rush deserved better, someone who could properly commit. He liked long term, steady relationships, and wouldn't be so silly as to want David who had a track record of exactly the opposite.

"You've gone all quiet."

"Oh." David reached for the first excuse he could come up with. "JP was talking about Qubine just now."

Rush looked sympathetic. "Have you thought about trying again?"

"Try what?"

"Asking him out again."

David blinked a few times. "No, I haven't." He sighed. "I've done enough damage already."

"The thing is, you can't make things worse by asking again, so why not? If you want something, then work for it, right?"

Rubbing his forehead heavily, David gave his friend a sad smile. "You have no idea how many times I've replayed that night in my head. I don't have the courage to go through it again for real. And don't forget what happened to Rhagoh."

"You can't prove what happened to Rhagoh was your fault! It wasn't as if he didn't already have a dead twin sister before he went out with you. How were you supposed to have made him go like that anyway? It doesn't even make sense. We've been friends for years and we'd slept together, right, and nothing's happened to me."

Maybe the explanation from Rush, who didn't know about a machine that governed life and death, was simpler, and closer to the truth. But it made little difference right now.

"I know you're trying to make me think positively. Thank you," said David. "Maybe one day I'll want to try again, but not so soon. Anyway," he sat up better in the beaten-up sofa, "how are things on your end?"

Rush did that little pout of his. "Still forever alone. You know, when your life isn't changing, so you don't get to meet anyone new. Doesn't help I'm 30 and only just stopped living with parents. If she's also living with family, then there's practically no place to be alone together. I'm not even talking about sex, just things like watching telly and stuff without there being other people around."

"That was your choice, though." If Rush hadn't lived at home all these years, he would never be able to afford a house as nice as the one John and Marina had just moved into. This didn't mean David didn't sympathise, of course. "And now that they've moved, you've improved your situation."

"Doesn't help me to meet someone new though. Maybe I've already missed the boat."

David was about to say something comforting, but the phone rang again. He frowned at it for a few moment, annoyed by the interruption, before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey. Are you busy?" A familiar voice asked in an uncharacteristically chirpy way, only just loud enough to be heard over the polyphonic tunes in the background.

"Zephyr? I thought you're away for the week. I'm..." he gave Rush an apologetic look and mouthed the words _I'll explain later_ , "I'm not busy. What is it?"

"We thought we'd just go and do this by ourselves but I changed my mind. Roeas and I are getting married. Do you want to come watch us sign a bit of paper?"

David didn't know how his face looked at that moment but Rush seemed to be terribly amused. "What? Did I hear you right?"

"Yeah. And it's right now," said Zephyr. "Well, there's a queue, so in about two, three hours I guess. But if you wanna come we can wait."

"Where are you?"

"The registrar's office at Level 7. It's near the casinos."

Getting all the way there in three hours was pushing it a bit, but if David hurried he could make it. "But Vashyron and Leanne aren't—"

"Just you's fine."

"I'll be there!" David slammed down the receiver and ran to get his shoes and coat. "Rush, sorry, I need to head out right now. I'll be back later tonight but you don't have to wait—"

"Is everything okay? You need any help?"

David put his coat on and checked that he had his wallet and keys, then put his holsters on. Suddenly he paused, thinking. "You know, it's taking a while but I think you should stick with me. Paris tried to set me up with a woman who's now JP's wife. And now Zephyr's marrying someone who proposed a threesome with me. If you stick with me, lightning is going to strike."

"Fingers crossed, then!" Rush laughed. "Go, I'll clean up and then go home."

There was an odd look in Rush's eyes, but David didn't have the time to question.

"Thanks!"

 

The three of them stood under the light canopy of the casino next to the registrar's office. Multi-coloured lightbulbs proudly announced their express wedding packages and how, for a small additional fee, a witness could be arranged if required.

"So I guess the threesome offer is off the table then?" David asked Roeas.

"I almost forgot about that." Roeas smirked. "It's off the table, the bed, the wall, and the kitchen counter."

"Carpet?"

"Oh, now you're talking. I always love a bit of carpet burn."

Zephyr rolled his eyes. David laughed.

"I think your husband doesn't like the idea,"

The choice of word made the corners of Roeas's eyes crinkle with genuine happiness. David had never thought he would get to see her like this. Or to see Zephyr the way he was right now, free of his burdens and smiling, having completely given up even trying to act cool.

"You'll have to find your own man then."

"I'm working on it," said David with a smile. "On a serious note, thank you for inviting me."

"We should be thanking you. Saved us a few rubies since we didn't have to hire a witness."

David wasn't here because he was more important than Vashyron or Leanne or Zephyr's other friends. He was invited because Zephyr wanted David to not worry about him, and to know that even people like them could have happy endings.

How this particular happy ending came about after Roeas pulled that disappearing act, David had no idea, but he was sure Zephyr would tell him later. Right now was not the time.

"Well, you two run along then. Come home when you run out of ammo."

Because that sounded like the kind of honeymoon these two would have. Though, it was entirely possible that they were secretly soppy, romantic people who were going to spend days reciting love poetry at each other. David didn't really care to know.

"See you, then. Remember our pact."

On his way back, passing by the many top-end shops in the casino district, David spotted something in one of the windows and immediately bought it without a second thought.

Rush had already left by the time he got home, their pizza boxes cleared away as promised. David hung up his new purchase in the wardrobe and then finally went to bed, much later than planned and with Charlotte's notes from the cafe rather than a book. He wasn't as bad as Vashyron when it came to money but he hadn't worked for a week and this lifestyle of going out all the time wasn't cheap, especially with this latest impulse buy.

It probably wasn't a good thing to have that in his possession but hell, he wanted it, he was going to have it. What was the chance of finding in a shop the exact same coat that Qubine always wore, after the brand had already stopped making this design? Maybe David could give it to Qubine later, for Christmas or something.

Maybe. If he felt like it.

 

He had finished. After eight years, Qubine's project was complete.

The task was over, but the job itself wasn't done. He felt no sense of jubilation, only relief that he had made it in time, and listlessness because all he could do from now on was wait. Regimental exercising helped somewhat, and would come in useful if the day did come, but it still left him empty.

He had a few copies of the final product made, one of which he gave to Rowen, along with the manufacturing information. He explained it was "a measure against what happened in Lucia," and Rowen accepted it after reigning in his surprise. The man was no fool; Qubine firmly believed the top three Cardinals knew far more than they let on, because that was their job.

After that, he continued to fulfill his obligations and requests, until one day the work just suddenly stopped coming. Rowen had had a talk with Antourion and decided "something needed to be done" which was that they would give nothing for Qubine to do for a period, and then carefully negotiate the workload. Apparently up until recently they did not know that each other was also relying on Qubine, but one day Rowen became "informed". Qubine forgot to ask how that came about whilst he faced the prospect of having nothing to do for other people, an idea that filled with him equal measures of bliss and dread.

At the start of this break, he took a walk to the dessert cafe and then the Basilica, sat down at where he and David sat that day in late summer, and recalled their conversation about Forsaken, and how people could suddenly die with no symptoms. David was suspicious of Qubine's confidence that he wouldn't fall prey to the Sudden Death Syndrome, but he didn't know that Qubine had already made sure his quartz was as safe as it could possibly be.

The slight sunburn and the subsequent tan Qubine got that day had long since faded away, as if it had never happened. Instead of the comforting heat of late summer, the very top of Basel was forbiddingly cold in winter, and Qubine did not linger long. It had seemed a good idea to relive a day beguiled with David, but in reality it only reminded him of how things had changed since then.

So for a while he played music, studied astronomy, edited Pater's comic, read books, and stuck to his exercise routine. He listened to Pater talk about his work and Leanne, and honestly answered his question about David: no, it was not going to happen, for reasons which could not be discussed.

When Jean Paulet came to visit, Qubine was on the piano. His old friend stayed silent until Qubine finished the piece, by which time he had helped himself to some tea and a seat.

"I checked the cave and the greenhouse, but here you are. I'm speechless."

"I've finished," said Qubine, closing the lid over the keyboard.

"Finished? As in your work?" Jean Paulet asked, watching Qubine move over to make himself tea with both milk and sugar. "Mon dieu," he muttered under his breath.

"It's... not easy to adjust to." Qubine sounded more lost than he intended to let on.

"And you don't seem happy at all," said Jean Paulet. "I don't suppose you're finally going to tell me what you'd been working on all these years?"

Qubine's silence was enough of an answer. Jean Paulet's shoulders sagged in a sort of fond frustration.

"You should come and visit me if you have so much free time, mon ami."

"You have an infant to take care of. How is Agnetha?"

"She's fine. Leaving her side makes me nervous but I'll get used to it."

One corner of Qubine's mouth curled upwards. "Nervous" was to put it lightly. He'd bumped into Emmy the other day, who said that her husband properly panicked the first time they left their baby alone with the staff.

"Then go home and stay with her."

"Which is why you should visit me so that I don't have to leave her!" said Jean Paulet. "Or I'll bring her with me next time!"

Qubine made a dismissive noise as he drank his tea.

"Is it really that hard to believe that I actually do enjoy your company?"

"It is hard to believe that you think I would actually tolerate your company."

"You know you want to bathe in my magnificence. Come to dinner this weekend, I'll ask David and Paris as well if you don't mind."

"I don't."

"Good. Speaking of David, I heard that he's quite good friends with Cardinal Rowen these days."

Qubine could believe that. "He is?"

"Charlotte saw them at her café a couple of times. He really makes friends wherever he goes, our David."

"He has the strangest tastes when it comes to friends."

They looked at each other, each with an arched eyebrow.

"He has indeed." Jean Paulet leaned back into his seat. "We'll ask him at dinner. Now play me a tune before I go home."

It looked like Jean Paulet came all the way here to check on him and invite him to dinner. The least Qubine could do was oblige him. He opened the lid again.

"One. Then get out."


	32. Paternal

[AR1140, winter]

Zephyr returned home one evening, looking no different from when he left except for the additional jewellery on his ring finger. Vashyron and Leanne were both out, as if he had picked this time to come back to save himself from endless questions.

He busied himself upstairs for a while, then came down with David's bag. David told him to put it back in his room.

"Had a good time?"

"Yeah."

David hung his head over the back of the sofa to try to see Zephyr. "Are you still going to live here?"

"For a while. Until we have enough cash to move somewhere."

"Vashyron said the money you didn't take for some of the jobs over the years is stashed at the back of the booze cabinet, bottom left corner."

"Cheers." Zephyr poked his head out of David's room. "Is this what I think it is?"

David turned around so that he could see better. Zephyr was tugging out something from his wardrobe. A familiar sleeve came into view.

"It's a coat."

"This is Qubine's coat."

"It's not. It just looks like it." David turned away, unsure if he felt embarrassed or defensive.

He heard the wardrobe, and then the bedroom door, shut. Then Zephyr's footsteps towards the kitchen.

"His one is falling apart. I'm going to give it to him later," David explained.

"Sure you are. That's why you have it hanging up in your room."

Touché. "It's not as if I roll myself around in it."

"It's not healthy, that's all I'm sayin'."

"Yes, of course you can judge me, now that you're married."

"Come on."

"I'm joking. I'm very envious of you."

A few moments later, a mug of tea appeared over David's shoulder. He accepted it, mumbling his thanks. Zephyr's shadow remained over him as he blew on it.

"Hmm?"

"You're okay, right?"

David smiled over the brim of his mug. "This is fun. It's your turn to worry about me."

"I suppose it's what I have to do now, as a married man and therefore the responsible adult."

"Show off."

 

Despite having lived in Chandelier for years, there were still many places David had not visited, not because Basel was huge but because there had never been the opportunity.

This eatery, for example, was a hidden gem that he had never even heard of. Open all hours, it served hearty meals and teas in mugs that were the size of his face. It was the kind of place one would expect to find near the mines, but it was in Level 2 and attracted a diverse crowd of faithful patrons, including Rowen who had the use of a special room. He said he sometimes had meetings here if he knew they were going to run late.

Rowen had picked David up at the lift, saying he would never find this place on his own, and David almost missed him entirely because of the absence of the Cardinal robes. So it was true that once Rowen wasn't in his uniform, he was practically invisible. David had also not expected to be picked up by car. Private cars weren't so rare up in Chandelier — Jean Paulet drove once in a while as well — but depending on where you lived, walking or public transport could actually be more convenient, and cycling was starting to become fashionable. Still, he didn't think it was strange. It was a pretty cold night after all, and travelling by car meant less gawking for a man who was living too much of his life in the public eye.

It was just the two of them again. Apparently Rowen had bodyguards, but they were either not there or they were being very discreet.

"You look tired."

"I had a crazy week," said David, reading the menu. "My housemate got married and went away for a while, so I took on a few more jobs than usual. Then I was in Royotia for two days. Came back up, and down the other lift to Level 6 for another job. And then more running around for other bits of work."

Rowen looked bemused. "Why do you take on so much?"

"Honestly? Because I like having money. I suppose you know that I lived in an orphanage for a while? After a few years spent relying on charity donations for food, you get a bit poor-phobic." The steak, or the stew? Choices, choices. "And my housemates have worked hard to get a good reputation, so sometimes clients ask for us by name. It's not good for business to turn those jobs down."

"Ah. I confess I don't know how things work in your profession."

"Sometimes I don't, either." There was red wine in the stew, so steak it was. David put the menu away. "And I've been doing it for two years."

"If it helps, I've been at my job for 26 years and I still can't describe what it involves," said Rowen.

Ever since David was born, then. He carefully kept that thought to himself.

"Not being able to describe it and not knowing what you're doing are different things, luckily," he said with a sigh. "Why am I even talking about work? It's not that interesting. Let's talk about something else."

"Because it is what we spend most of our days on and it becomes a huge part of our lives as a result. But we can talk about other things if you want." Rowen was wry. "Have you tried those books again? I meant to return the ones I borrowed but I forgot to bring them, sorry."

David did try reading them again, and again he put them down. "Don't worry about it, I don't think I'll get to those volumes so soon."

"Bounced off them again?"

"Not this time. I'm just not in the right frame of mind for them. Or maybe too much in the right frame of mind."

They were a series of essays on various topics but most with a common theme, and right now David could do without reading about losing what one never had. He thought those essays should really strike home with Rowen too, who was enamoured with the late Prelate Freida, but maybe time did heal all wounds and there was hope for David yet. Whether or not it would take him over twenty years, though...

Surely it wouldn't be right to ask Rowen about his experience. They weren't that sort of friends.

Someone knocked, entered the room and took their orders. After that, Rowen sat forward slightly, his expression heavy with concern.

"If you're not feeling well, you should have just told me and cancelled."

"Hmm? No, I was just thinking. I'm a bit tired, but it's good to wrap up the week with a nice dinner." David shrugged. "Besides, even if I was ill, I'd need your number to call you."

That prompted Rowen to pull out a pen and a notebook from his coat and, after a long pause, scribbled down his number and tore out the page for David.

David chuckled at the sight. "You don't remember your own number?"

"It's very underused."

"Why? Don't you get asked for it sometimes?"

"People generally contact me through Veronique."

David had to pause to think about that one, and then when it came to him it was so obvious. Of course people wouldn't ask for a direct number. It wasn't that David had forgotten that Rowen was the most important man in this world, but that wasn't what he saw him as.

"I guess I'm just slow today. And the whole 'cardinal' thing drops out of your mind when your brother is one and your best friend is one and you see them stub their toes on furniture just like anyone else."

That seemed to amuse and please Rowen.

Rowen was an intense man, but not so much so that he didn't know how to enjoy people's company. His social skills were better than Qubine's — not that it meant much — and now that David was used to his seemingly over-serious face, talking to him was easy. His presence, with his broad shoulders and tall, straight back, felt protective and comforting to David in a way that was different from having two guns at his hip.

He wasn't entirely sure how the conversation went in that direction, but later on David felt at ease enough to mention why he couldn't read those books about love and loss.

"I confessed to someone I've liked for a long, long time, and got turned down."

Rowen looked genuinely shocked. "Were they mad?"

The reaction surprised David. "On the contrary, he probably made the right choice."

"Turning you down cannot be the right choice."

"Thanks. It might sound silly but hearing you say that does make me feel a bit better."

"I'm only being honest. You're—" Rowen stuttered once. "You're intelligent, witty, considerate, hard working, good looking. This is definitely his loss."

It was endearing that Rowen was angry on his behalf, like a father finding out his son hadn't been selected for the school play. He was the first and only one out of all of David's friends who didn't just shake his head and sigh. But of course, Rowen didn't know it was Qubine who David was talking about.

It wasn't as if there had been an argument and he wanted his friends to take his side, but seeing Rowen's reaction, so supportive of David with hardly a second thought, could make him believe for a moment that perhaps he hadn't done anything wrong by confessing. It was Qubine's loss, not his.

"Thanks, Rowen. Seriously, thank you."

 

"So, you know that coat Qubine always wears? I saw it in a shop and bought it. Is that unhealthy?"

Rush put down their drinks, using copies of _Guns & Grenades_ as coasters. "Depends. What size did you get?"

"His size, but it was their last one anyway."

"And what are you doing with it?"

"Nothing. I just look at it."

"Look at it, or stare at it longingly?"

"I really don't need you to start judging me as well."

"Dude. You asked me if it's unhealthy." Rush plopped down next to David on the sofa. It was new, or as new as second-hand furniture could be. Irina took the old one. "You killed three guys for him, got drunk when he turned you down, and after that you nearly got killed during a job because you couldn't concentrate. If I was gonna judge you it'd be over those things, not a coat. Mocking you though, now that's a different thing."

David gave Rush a long-suffering look. Rush ignored it, turning on the TV and found a music show for some background noise.

"If you're really asking though, that's hardly unhealthy when you compare it with all the other weird stuff that goes on."

"Everything is relative?"

Rush shrugged. "Why are you asking me anyway? What'd you do if I said 'yeah, that's creepy'?"

"Then I might actually do something about it. I do respect your opinion, you know."

"I'm honoured, m'lord." Rush reached for his drink on the coffee table. "My opinion is you should do things at your own pace, whether you want to try again or move on. Just... if you do meet someone else who piques your interest, don't just walk away. Give him a go. Don't leave regrets."

The earnestness of Rush's words surprised David. He couldn't be talking about himself, could he? But David was quite sure he knew about every single person Rush had been interested in, and how things turned out. Rush always tried. Maybe he was simply suggesting that David did the same.

"But just so you know, if anyone else turns you down, I'm going to smash their stupid brains on the nearest solid object."

David cackled. "You seem angry."

"I'm bloody furious!" said Rush. "At the time when it all just happened I didn't want to say the wrong thing and make things worse, but man, Qubine might be a genius, but he's also an idiot."

"Nobody wanted to take sides for a long while, and then all of a sudden two people say the same thing to me in one week. It's quite reassuring."

"Happens when there are too many mutual friends. Who else was as wise as me?"

"Rowen. Granted, he didn't know I was talking about Qubine."

"Rowen? Who?"

"As in Cardinal Rowen." When Rush gaped at him, David frowned. "Is it that strange? JP and everyone else had the same reaction during dinner last weekend. Hounded me with all sorts of questions."

"You're friends with him?"

"Since recently. He's a very nice man, I like him."

Rush scratched his head. "I suppose it's not that strange. But why were you talking about your love life with him?"

What kind of a question was that? "Because he's a friend?" David thought he'd said that already. Friend meant friend, somebody he liked and trusted. "He's a good listener. Anyway, he got rather angry. You wouldn't know it looking at him, but he's quite protective and paternal."

"Huh." Rush turned the TV volume down. "Like how?"

It seemed like Rush was curious about Rowen just like everyone else. Hoping to rectify the misconception that the cardinal was a strict man who only thought about the running of Basel, David described their meetings, the things Rowen said or did that people who were not his friends would not have expected.

The colour of Rush's face slowly changed, taking on a hint of pink.

"Dave," he said when David finished, "I don't think he's paternal. I think he fancies you."

David didn't think he had ever heard anything more ludicrous in his life. "Very funny."

"I'm serious."

"Everyone knows about him and the prelate."

"Doesn't mean he isn't into guys too. I mean, he's been seriously flirting with you."

David rolled his eyes. "That's just how some men deal with gay people. They want to emphasise how much they don't mind. Trust me on this, I've met a lot of them."

"Wanna bet?"

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I know what effect you have on people and I know exactly how that feels."

Hold on.

He couldn't... he didn't mean...

David almost didn't dare to ask. "Rush?"

Rush scooted himself back a few inches. "That was a long time ago! But my point still stands!"

A long time ago? When? How come David hadn't realised?

"Anyway, you don't know what paternal feels like; your dad hadn't been like that to you for obvious reasons. Do you really think Rowen's being a dad or do you just want him to be?"

His thoughts forcibly dragged away from Rush himself, David didn't say anything right away. Now he was getting confused. Not Rowen, surely. He was someone who would not be out of choices, not because of his status but because he was an attractive man, handsome and smart and charismatic. Rowen wouldn't want a kid like him.

"I still think you're being ridiculous."

"If you've got any of that green spray-in left, we can have a bet."

"This is silly. I'm not betting." David had also thrown the hair dye away as soon as the week was up, promising himself he would never let green touch his hair again.

"Spoilsport. Just go and ask him then."

"If you want to get rid of me that desperately you can just tell me," said David, smiling when Rush narrowed his eyes at him comically. "Or do you want me to stay over?"

Rush blinked, then got up a second later, swiping their cups from the table, both still half full. "Nope. If you're here I'll never make it in time for work tomorrow." He headed to the kitchen. "Want another drink?"

"Sure."

From where he sat, David watched Rush busy himself, his back turned. Rush did like him. Not a long time ago, but right now. Therefore Rush didn't want casual sex with him anymore. If this was any other man, the idea would seem impossible, but this was exactly how Rush was like.

"Say if you were right, then. If Rowen asked me out, what do you think I should do?"

"I don't know? Do you like him?"

"Hmm, I guess he's all right. I haven't considered him in that context yet."

"He'd make a good sugar daddy."

"He would!" David laughed. "There's a scope I've been after for ages, and then I spent the rubies on a coat instead..."

Turning around briefly, Rush grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

"I like this plan."

"On a more serious note, if you aren't looking for something long term, I don't see why not. Apart from him being _Cardinal_ Rowen, that's something you'd need to worry about." Rush was taking an awfully long time with the drinks. "If you want long term, ask yourself if you'll like him better than you like Qubine. 'Cus I think rebounds don't last."

Yes, David thought that was why Rush didn't act on his feelings as well. Not going into a battle he had already lost.

David hadn't given up hope entirely yet. But if he asked Qubine again and got the same result, he would bury those feelings forever and fall in love with Rush instead. He could do that. He believed he could do it.

"You know, when we first met I thought you were a bit of a dork, but you actually are probably the wisest one out of everybody I know."

"Butter me up all you like, you still aren't sleeping here tonight."

"Damn."


	33. The Moon

[AR1140, winter]

"A fashion show?" asked David, because he didn't think he heard the words right. "I might be making assumptions but you don't seem the type to go to that sort of thing."

"It's Garigliano's show. If I don't go I would never hear the end of it."

"Ah, now that makes sense." It had been a long time since David last saw Garigliano. He was a strange man, to put it lightly, but he was passionate about the things he did and that alone, if nothing else, deserved respect. 

"Would you go with me?" Rowen asked on the phone.

David looked around him. All his housemates were in their rooms. He let a hint of smile warm his voice, so that his words could be taken as a joke if required.

"I'm free tomorrow night but... you're asking me out on a date?"

The answer came fast and sure.

"Yes."

Mon dieu. Rush was right.

"David, it might be absurd of me to think you might even consider me, but I will never know unless I try. I will wait for you at the lift."

David made a sound of acknowledgement, then Rowen hung up.

There it was, that surge of excitement and bliss which he also felt the other night when he realised that Rush had feelings for him. It was awfully flattering; it had been a long time since anyone actually did this for him, to show interest, to take a risk and ask him out the old fashioned way, rather than it all being pre-arranged and set up. Rhagoh turned out to be lovely but this, this was different.

But how did he feel about Rowen? Could he give this a try?

He reached for the phone and dialled a number. If he heard Qubine's voice, maybe that would help him decide.

There was no one to pick up at the workshop — how strange — so he tried to main house number. One of the staff got hold of Qubine.

"You're not at the cave?"

"I'm reading."

Oh, of course. Work and books were like death and taxes in Qubine's life. "I was just thinking..." he had Qubine on the phone. Better make up something to say. "What do you want for Christmas? I'm doing my shopping list."

A pause. "I can't think of anything."

"I thought you'd say that. How about a night with a nice woman? I'll throw in a maid outfit too."

Qubine snorted. "I couldn't possibly accept such an expensive present; Pater would have to declare it."

That was a great reply if there ever was one.

"Then tell me what I can get you."

"I would, if I can think of something."

"You're always the difficult one."

"My apologies."

They bantered for a little before hanging up. David sighed. Yes, Qubine was still Qubine, and his feelings were still the same.

Would Rowen be able to change that?

 

The next day, David met Rowen at the eastern lift on Level 2.

"Thanks for coming."

"Please don't take this as an answer of any sort," said David, his voice quiet. He didn't feel comfortable, but it wasn't because of Rowen. "I just think we should talk face to face."

"I guessed." The expression on Rowen's face didn't change. "Let's go."

"Hold on." David's fingers touched Rowen's arm. He'd figured out what it was that was making him twitch. "This might be my paranoia speaking but I feel like we're being watched."

To that, Rowen actually smirked. "That would be my new bodyguard. She's already run a background check on you, but she still would like to have seen you in person. I'm sure she'll leave in a minute."

So Rowen's security arrangement was rather like the other cardinals', then. David would say that this particular bodyguard wasn't that good if she thought David's background was clean, but then again, why should anyone be able to dig up anything about Aetersyl?

"I see," David chuckled, relieved that his instincts were correct. If he was to be friends — or anything else — with Rowen then he should know the bodyguards the way he did Jean Paulet's and Pater's. As Rowen nodded at her, he also turned around.

Lithe body leaning against a lamp column, she waved at them casually, her playful smile wholly unsuitable for someone who worked for the top cardinal of Basel.

Seeing that familiar face, David was caught between laughing and legging it out of here. No wonder his background check came back all clear; probably all she did was look at his name, laugh her lungs out and tell Rowen he was fine.

So much for keeping all this under wraps. He could only hope she would not tell anyone.

"I think I'm ready to be wooed. Let's go."

 

The image was a little fuzzy. Frowning, Qubine pulled away from the eyepiece and walked around to check that there wasn't mould on the lens; it would be troublesome if there was. Or was it his eyesight? With great care he wiped the lens, then tried again. Good, it was only a bit of dirt.

He packed the equipment and put on extra layers. On his way out, he was going to ask if Pater wanted to join him, but the maid said that Leanne had dropped by, so Qubine just kept going. Earlier he even invited Jean Paulet, but the man said he wanted to stay home to watch the baby, and was already missing Garigliano's fashion show tonight, and now Qubine was making it worse. Qubine reassured him he would probably just find it boring anyway, before hanging up. At least he'd tried; now Jean Paulet couldn't say that he was being antisocial or a hermit.

In theory they could do this indoors, but the windows at Jean Paulet's manor didn't point in the right direction, and Qubine wanted to go higher up for an unobstructed view. It was a good night for observation, with clear sky. The moon was half full, but not bright enough to drown out the stars. If he was lucky he might be able to see Mercury.

The guards at the entrance of the Square Garden didn't recognise Qubine, but they let him in after checking his identification, and joked about searching for the star from the heavens when they asked what he was doing there.

That was what David said that night when he came to Qubine's house and found him behind the same telescope, looking up into the sky.

_"If you're looking for your star from the heavens, I'm right here."_

Qubine took a deep breath and continued walking. He turned David down that night. It was the right thing to do and he refused to regret it.

 

Dinner was lovely and the fashion show was positively a riot. Garigliano's style was erratic and insane. While some of the pieces were outstanding, most of the time it was just fun to watch both the designs and the reaction of the crowd. At times even Rowen cringed, or had to hold back a laugh when David tipped his head towards him and whispered a comment or two.

They escaped the venue before the afterparty. It was a bit too chilly for a stroll, but Rowen seemed to have a place in mind.

"I've known Garigliano all my life. Even so, what goes on in that freak's head is sometimes a complete mystery to me."

"I can say that about some of my friends too," said David, looking around them. The street was almost deserted. "Do you often walk around on your own at night?"

"I wouldn't say often. My bodyguards usually wouldn't allow it. Why?"

That woman gave David a vote of confidence, then. He wasn't surprised at all. "Even Chandelier isn't entirely safe. Someone I know got shot in Level 3 last year."

"Really?" Rowen frowned.

David nodded. "I suppose it's a rare thing, but..." he trailed off, thinking about what he was saying. "Sorry, occupational habit. Ignore what I said."

"Would it be strange if I say I find that cute?"

David blinked, then smiled. Rowen was surprisingly charming. There was no denying that he was enjoying himself. "Considering the situation? No. But you'll get tired of it soon enough."

Rowen was charming, and he also had a nice smile. "We'll see."

As they neared their destination, David could work out where they were going.

"And here I thought you were taking me to a dark alley and leaving my body to the wolves."

"If there was a dark alley, I think you would be the one to walk out of it alive, not me."

"Well, if you put it that way."

David surrendered his weapons at the entrance. The guards wanted to open the gate for Rowen, but he dismissed them with a wave and did it himself.

"After all that, the lack of dark alleys is making me feel quite shocked."

"Surely not as shocking as that fashion show."

"Poor Garigliano. He's ahead of his time and misunderstood."

Rowen chuckled, resigned. "That is what I keep trying to tell myself."

"You're a good friend for not judging him."

"And a bad date for subjecting you to that horror."

"At which point did you think I wasn't enjoying myself? I had a lot of fun. Maybe not in the way the show was intended, but I was thoroughly entertained."

They wandered until they were at the edge of the gardens on the other side, and quieted down after a few moments. Then Rowen looked up.

"The moon is beautiful tonight."

 

From where he was, Qubine couldn't see them, nor did he want to. But these were voices he could easily identify.

"The moon is beautiful tonight."

He wondered if David would get that reference. He had lent that particular book to him in the past.

"I... I'm flattered." David clearly did. Qubine had never heard his friend sound this flustered before. "Before you say anything more, there are a few things I'd like to know."

"Go ahead."

 

"I apologise in advance if any of this offends you, but I'd rather we are honest with each other upfront." David felt so bad for the questions he was about to ask he couldn't look at Rowen in the eye. "What are you looking for? A lover? Something casual? A... toyboy maybe?"

Rowen studied him. Compared with David, his voice was steady and sure. "A companion."

David's chest tightened. Him? Really? "But why?"

"I don't understand your question."

"I've never heard of you being with anyone..."

"I like to keep my personal affairs private and so far I have succeeded. The world can think what it wants to think; I simply don't believe in subjecting anyone to the kind of attention and scrutiny I receive."

"Ah..."

"My previous partner was a woman. She left me for someone else around a year ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. Not anymore anyway." Rowen stepped a little closer. "Tell me what you're thinking, David."

"Honestly, I'm still in a state of disbelief."

"Because you've been approached by an old man, or because you've been approached by Cardinal Rowen?"

"You're 48. If you were 84 I would have a problem." David managed to chuckle. "But your timing is remarkable."

Rowen tipped his head. "Because you've recently been turned down?"

"By someone I've liked all my adult life. And believe me, over the years I've tried being with other people—"

"I've told you, whoever he is, he was mad to turn you down."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm not good enough for him. But now you're here and... you and him are quite alike in some ways." If David had a type, then Rowen was exactly his type. The mere thought of this shocked him. "I don't think I can give you an answer with a clear mind."

"Do you think your head is what you should use for this decision?"

"Yes." David sighed, his breath misting in the cold air. "Because I think you'd only become my rebound."

"Perhaps I can change your mind."

"What if I tell you I don't feel ready for any commitment?"

Rowen's reply was careful and considered. "Given my timing, I can understand. But maybe I can convince you otherwise on this, too."

"How confident."

"No, I just think you are worth the risk."

For the first time in his life, David was being truly and properly wooed. The fact that it was actually working made him laugh in embarrassment.

"You're smooth."

"It comes with age, like fine wine."

And good cheese. That was a cheesy thing to say if there ever was one. Brilliant, too.

"Like fine wine..."

"You've voiced your concerns. But what are your feelings?"

What were his feelings? David could want Rowen. Easily. And hadn't Rush said before that what David needed was someone who didn't know that he had a hidden past and just loved him for who he was now?

"I don't drink, so I don't know what fine wine tastes like," he said. If they were going to do cheesy, then he was confident he could win. "Maybe you can show me."

 

Qubine packed up and left the gardens as quietly as he could. He didn't want to see Mercury, he decided. Astronomy was not for him.

 

When he got back to Ebel City after walking Rowen home, David had a few questions ready for Zephyr, but as soon as he opened the front door he saw his housemate and his wife Roeas on the sofa, watching TV, and David braced for trouble and possible sniggering instead.

"Long time no see," said Roeas, who kept her face perfectly straight. She half turned and hooked an arm over the back of the sofa.

"Indeed," David replied as he took off his boots. "Rumour has it you have a new job?"

"I have. Bodyguarding one of the cardinals."

"How in the world did you land yourself such a gig?"

"Connections. You know what they say: it's not about what you know but who you know."

Zephyr eyed Roeas, and then David, suspicious, but didn't join in the conversation.

"I suppose it pays well," David said, shrugging off his coat.

"It pays very well. We could have our own place sooner than you think. Sorry David, we do love you, just not that much." The corners of Roeas's mouth began to twist as she tried to keep herself from giggling. "Anyway, the salary's great, but the job's pretty boring... until now. It's very interesting now."

I bet, David thought. "That's great, I'm happy for you."

"Thanks. So how was your evening? Where've you been?"

David put his boots away, and then all but glared at Roeas, who put a hand over her mouth in a last ditch attempt to stop herself laughing.

At this point, Zephyr spoke up. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" Roeas took a deep breath. She couldn't hold it in anymore. "It really shouldn't be this funny, but it just is..."

David sighed and shook his head. "Zephyr, control your woman."

His housemate snorted. "Ha, fat chance."

At this point, David decided the best course of action was to get out of here. Whether it was funny or not, Roeas should be professional enough to keep this to herself. They both risked losing something if this became public: for Roeas, it was her job and her future home with Zephyr; for David, it was a life away from the public eye.

He left the two, went to his room and lay down on his bed.

Rowen.

With the exception of Rush, who guessed it in the beginning, nobody could know about this. Not his housemates, not Paris, not Jean Paulet, not Qubine. What should feel like a constraint, though, felt like liberation instead — if they didn't know, then they couldn't judge or compare.

Maybe this time David stood a chance of being happy.


	34. Denial

[AR1140, winter]

Something was going on. Jean Paulet hadn't been able to get in touch with David for nearly two weeks and if he asked, his housemates usually said they had no idea where he was either.

Jean Paulet couldn't help but worry. Two weeks didn't seem long but for David it was unusual, especially since it was nearly Christmas. It would be the first one they could all spend the holiday together since David regained his lift pass and they really should get planning.

Could it be that because Jean Paulet now had a family, David didn't want to take up too much of his time? That sounded like the kind of nonsense he would worry about.

"When he gets here, I'm going to tell him."

Seated to his left, Qubine didn't look up from his reading. "Tell him what?"

"That it upsets me when he hides from me."

"Has he been hiding?"

Of course Qubine hadn't been in contact with David either. That wasn't unexpected. "You have no idea how difficult it was to get hold of him."

"Sometimes people get busy."

"They do," a third voice joined in. David was at the doorway. "There's been a lot of work, JP. And isn't your paternity leave over already? Shouldn't you be back at work?"

Good, David looked well. Jean Paulet couldn't stop himself from getting up and giving him a hug. "This is called homeworking, mon ami. I do as much as I can from home so that I can meet the demands of fatherhood."

"And 'work' involves calling your friends over and a table full of food?"

"If I cannot even look after my own friends properly, how am I supposed to take care of my diocese?" Jean Paulet pushed David towards the table and chairs. "Now sit down, eat and tell me what you've been up to."

"I told you, I've been working."

"You have. Your housemates told me. They said that after work you go home, wash and head straight out again."

"I don't like sitting at home all the time."

"So where do you go?"

"Out and about, see people."

"But not me?"

David sighed. "It's only been a week."

"It's been longer than that! What are you hiding?"

"This is dramatic, even for you..."

David was still resisting. Jean Paulet tried a different tactic. "Did you think that you wouldn't be welcomed here anymore, now that I have a family?"

The light flickered in David's eyes as he panicked. "Well, I... of course I don't think you'd be like that."

Jean Paulet grasped his chance. "Then what's going on?"

"Nothing much. Look, how come you're on my case when we don't know what he's been doing all these years?"

By "he", David meant Qubine, who looked up from his book, calmly put it aside and picked up the teapot to pour tea for David.

Perhaps it was just his paranoia, then. Or whatever it was, David wasn't going to tell him in front of Qubine. Or maybe Qubine knew and he didn't. None of these possibilities made Jean Paulet feel any better.

"Pourquoi? Why do you two keep so much to yourselves? I tell you everything!"

"You do indeed," said Qubine, adding sugar and a dash of milk to David's tea. "We would even have found out what your wife enjoys in the bedroom had we not stopped you speaking."

"Sometimes I just get carried away!" Recalling that particular conversation, Jean Paulet blushed.

"And that is why we don't tell you everything. But that's okay, we still love you," said David.

"Leave me out of this." Qubine picked up his book again.

Jean Paulet sometimes couldn't decide if he was the parent of two very strange children, or if he was the child of this very strange family.

"So, I want to talk about this Christmas... maybe we can change things a little? Still do the family thing on the day, but celebrate here instead of at Pater's the day after?"

Qubine offered no opinion, which meant he didn't mind such an arrangement. David, however, shifted slightly.

"Can I confirm with you later?"

The suggestion that David needed to check his availability on the holidays tickled Jean Paulet's brain. Could it be...

Now it all made sense!

He gasped loudly at the realisation, and could see David's tiny flinch even as he did so, but the words were blurted out of his mouth faster than he could stop them.

"You're seeing some—"

Silence. Jean Paulet's face flushed red. Of everyone here, he should be the last person to feel any discomfort when it came to David's love life, but he was always the one to put a foot in his mouth. He missed the days when things were simple...

No, he mustn't think like that. Things had never been simple, his friends just pretended to make him feel better. He couldn't wish for them to keep nothing from him if all he wanted were roses and rainbows.

David reached for the plate of finger sandwiches and pushed it at Jean Paulet. "You do get carried away."

"I'm sorry." Jean Paulet kept his mouth busy with food. He better shut up now. It was strange of David to not want to talk about it since he said he wanted to go on like nothing had happened between him and Qubine, but Jean Paulet guessed it was still difficult. And maybe the relationship was in its early days.

"I'll tell you later about Christmas."

"Mmm." He ducked slightly when David patted him on the head, feeling guilty. He'd ruined the atmosphere now.

Having said nothing for a little while, Qubine uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way, then turned a page in his book. "It's not as if Torgal is a married man. Or at least I didn't spot a ring on his finger."

Jean Paulet had no idea who Torgal was, but what was Qubine doing? That idiot!

Oddly, David seemed to relax. "So now you admit you've met Torgal before?"

"Idea on what you are talking about, I have none."

It looked like it was safe to ask questions. "Who is Torgal?"

"Someone I worked with at Royotia. He's from the hunter's guild there. Qubine did _not_ work with him to help me get my lift pass," David explained, eyeing the person who was denying everything.

"What? But I thought the lift pass—"

"It has nothing to do with me," insisted Qubine. David gave Jean Paulet a "I'll tell you later" look.

"So, that Torgal, he's..."

Qubine turned another page. "A good man. Exceedingly tall."

"In Royotia we like to call him Tall Guy."

But was David really going out with this man? Jean Paulet couldn't tell, but he had a feeling he should just go with it.

"Even if you're spending Christmas with Tall Guy, you will come and see me at some point during the holidays, oui?"

"Oui."

 

"I'm sort of seeing Rowen."

Rush grinned so wide that David could see it in his profile as he cooked in the open kitchen.

"What do you mean by 'sort of'?"

"I told him I can't commit."

"And he's okay with that?"

"He says he'll try to change my mind."

"Wow."

"I know." The whole idea just bowled David over, and he couldn't tell if it was because he was being emotionally needy or if Rowen had really moved him.

"So where's that green hairspray?"

"I did say I wasn't betting!" said David. "Besides, I don't think he liked the green."

"Oh, so now it's about what he likes," Rush said, amused.

Always trust Rush to mock. "I want this to work. Even if it has to be kept a secret."

"Hmm, that's not ideal."

"Well, Qubine and JP have figured out something's going on, but I think they've been convinced to just not ask. And Paris doesn't ask about my relationships anymore. So it'll be fine."

Rush's brows gathered together a little. "You're okay with that? Be the secret lover who never gets any recognition?"

David just shrugged. He really didn't care. He didn't need people to know what he was doing with his life, or that he had nabbed the most eligible bachelor in Basel. If people were going to try their chances with Rowen, they would do it whether David existed or not. And having told Rowen he wasn't ready for commitment, what right did David have to demand it from him?

"My biggest problem right now is Christmas."

"What about it? Is he too busy with Cardinal-y work for you?"

"I don't know what his schedule will be yet. But it's like if you started a relationship just before a birthday, or Valentine's Day. Then the day comes along and you don't know if you should celebrate together because it feel like too big a thing for a new relationship."

"Hmm, I guess I kinda get you there." Rush plated up their dinner, which consisted of whatever was left in the fridge all stir fried together.

Rush did own a dining table, but as always they ate at the sofa instead.

"Thanks," said David as he received his plate. "Smells nice."

"No problem."

"And the thing is, I haven't slept with him yet."

Rush made a show of almost dropping his food. "Are you being a tease or is he not putting out?"

"Bad timing, mostly. There is a lot of religious and political proceedings to prepare for the end of the year; we can't get enough alone time together."

"Right. So?"

"It'd be very clichéd to do it at Christmas, wouldn't it? But if I don't..."

"Then you're a killjoy. Dave, do you always worry about timing when you're in a relationship?"

"This is just a special case. I really want to join the celebrations at JP's place, since I now have a lift pass. But I also want to fit Rowen in if he has time for me."

They mulled over the problem as they ate. After several mouthfuls, Rush had a suggestion.

"Sleep with him before Christmas. Then at least you don't have to worry about that part."

David liked the idea. Simple solutions were always the best and he was, to put it politely, quite keen to find out more about Rowen. It would still depend on him having a chance to see Rowen for more than half an hour at a time, though.

"For Christmas... he can't expect to see much of you on a day like that if you guys are supposed to be secret. Just pop over for an hour maybe?"

"I guess it'll have to be like that," said David, but then an idea struck him, and he was grinning before he could stop himself. "Or, not sleep with him before, and on the day spend just enough time to get to third base with him."

"Shit, that's ace. Evil, but ace." Rush put down his plate, trying not to laugh. "Why the heck am I planning your sex life with you?"

"Not just mine, Rowen's too."

"You're only making this worse, young man," said Rush in mock warning.

"And it's not evil at all. I'm very good at blowjobs."

"Right, that's it." Rush took David's dinner away. "Get out."

It was mean of him to say things like that, knowing Rush's feelings, but David also knew Rush well enough to know he would not have their friendship any other way.

"Fine, we won't talk about my sex life if it ruins your appetite." After some mutual staring and waggling of eyebrows, David retrieved his food. "How're things on your end?"

"We're doing Christmas at Mum and Dad's. Irina might bring her boyfriend."

"Are they getting serious?"

"Yeah. Have you met him?" Rush asked, and David shook his head. "Around our height, maybe an inch shorter. Pale silvery hair about this long." He gestured at somewhere between his chin and shoulder. "Really fragile-looking. But then he opens his mouth and he's friendly and super smart and... poised, like nothing can shake him."

"Unusual."

"He's... kinda hot."

David arched a judgemental eyebrow.

"I know! I know! I need to do something about this!"

Quickly finishing his dinner, David put the plate down, sat back and smirked. "So, let's talk about your sex life instead."

After he ploughed the rest of the food into his mouth, Rush heaved a sigh.

"Well, apparently if you go without for long enough you stop missing it. And nobody really needs anyone, it's all just a myth."

Perhaps. But going through life with someone else made it more interesting and bearable.

"Is this my fault, Rush?"

"What? Did I sound like—"

"No. But is this my fault?"

"No! In fact you've doubled my choices, men-bender."

"I mean..."

Their eyes met on the curved glass of the dark TV screen in front of them. Rush patted David's hair and smiled, affectionate.

"Don't be silly. I'm over you," he said. "And lightning might strike, right? That's what you said."

Had Rush ever liked him? Did he really have a crush on Irina's boyfriend? David couldn't tell if Rush was telling the truth anymore, he realised with a start. All these years of demanding Rush to keep secrets and help make up excuses had finally come back to bite him.

"As long as that lightning isn't your sister's boyfriend," said David, ducking away from his friend's hand.

"Oh, I don't know. If I had to choose between you and him, I think I'd pick him."

"I don't know if I should be alarmed, offended or relieved."

"Me neither."


	35. Looking Back, Moving Forward

[AR1140, Christmas]

David's evil-but-ace Christmas plans were in tatters.

"Dammit!" he breathed, his voice shaking. It had been a long time since he last received such treatment. "This was what I... was going to do for you..."

Rowen looked at him, his mouth too busy to make a reply. Not that David needed one anyway. As the pressure continued to build around his cock, he tried his best to keep his hips still rather than thrust into Rowen's mouth, but it was pretty much impossible. Rowen pulled away before he choked.

"Sorry..."

The response David received was a smile. Rowen's eyes were glazed with lust, probably just like his own.

"Rowen, if you want... I'm sure my friends are okay even if I turned up late for their party..."

For a second it looked like Rowen was going to take up the offer, but then he shook his head, put his hands on David's hips to pin them down on the bed and wrapped his lips around David's cock again, warm and moist, Hands going to grip the pillows under his head — Rowen was a double pillow man, this somehow contradicted what David would have imagined — David gave up trying to offer anything and just let himself be pleasured. This was a bit of a rarity for him, but he got the feeling that this was exactly what Rowen wanted. Like him, Rowen had a plan for today, David just didn't realise until their kiss got hungry and Rowen literally picked him up, carried him to the bedroom and put him on the bed.

He was almost there. He breathed through his mouth, panting for air, as Rowen worked him. He barely managed to utter a warning just before he climaxed, and Rowen moved his head away and pumped him hard as he came, his back arched, every muscle in his body tensing.

And then it was over. He fell back onto the bed, drained. When his vision focused again, he could see a hint of triumph in Rowen's eyes.

"Merry Christmas."

David chuckled, his throat parched dry. "I like Christmas a lot."

"Good," said Rowen. "I was worried I was very much out of practice."

"You can keep practising on me." David watched Rowen reach for some tissues. He sat up, tugged Rowen towards himself and kissed him, sliding his tongue in at the first opportunity. Rowen drew a shuddering breath when he felt a hand on his crotch.

"Not right now," he pulled away enough to say.

"Your body seems to disagree."

"I need to go to a meeting soon."

Damn. David never liked things being one-sided. "Tonight?"

Rowen kissed him on the neck. "Call first. I don't know what time I'll get home."

That probably meant Rowen wasn't going be home at all tonight. David was about to nod and then kiss him again, but a sudden shrill noise made them both jump. Within a heartbeat Rowen had untangled himself from David and was at the other end of the room answering the phone.

David had cleaned up and redressed himself by the time the call was over. It sounded serious, if the grave look on Rowen's face and the words "I'll be there immediately" were anything to go by.

"I guess that's not your normal phone, because otherwise I'd hesitate to ever call you again."

Rowen managed a small apologetic smile at David before making a call himself, apparently to ask Cardinal Antourion to chair the imminent meeting in his place, because there was a "Code L" and he had to take care of that right now.

"Roeas is off duty, right? Will you be all right on your own? I can escort if you need."

Rowen was at his wardrobe, pulling out a coat. "It's not that sort of emergency, I'll be fine. I'll drive."

Within minutes Rowen was in his car and driving away, whereas David, holding a bag of presents for his friends and stifling a yawn, headed for the lift. After having Rowen do that to him, he would like nothing more than a nap, but oh well. Hopefully things were fine and David could see him again tonight or some time soon. He wondered if Rowen a straight-to-sleep man or a snuggler. It would be slightly irksome if he was the type to get out of bed afterwards and start working again, but David wouldn't put it past him, and he would just have to get used to it if that was the case.

He walked slowly under the grey sky, through the empty streets; Rowen lived in an exclusive part of town and people seemed to either still be celebrating or sleeping off the food and alcohol from the day before. This was a good thing because he could feel himself smiling, thinking about the sorts of things he'd like to do to Rowen later.

At the lift, the operator must have mistook David's smile as greeting and smiled back in return. He nodded, embarrassed, and fixed his eyes on the folding lift gate instead. He could hear mechanism working hard and the lift coming up, slowing down as it arrived, bringing him face to face with someone he didn't expect to see here.

All thoughts of Rowen vanished from David's mind.

Qubine was the first to recover. "What are you doing here?"

"Work." David used his usual excuse. "And what are you doing here? Why aren't you at JP's?"

The gate pulled open and Qubine stepped out. "I was, but there's something I need to go and sort out."

"You're going to work?" David asked, and Qubine nodded. "Are you going to be back later?"

"Depends, I can't say yet. Sorry, I need to run now."

Coming from Qubine, this meant things were truly serious and he was in a real hurry. Following after him, David ran out into the road, flagged down the first taxi and Qubine jumped on, saying a quick thank-you before shutting the door.

Through the door window, David watched Qubine give the driver his destination. He wasn't a lip reader, but the driver repeated what Qubine said just loud enough for David to hear.

Aetersyl.

 

Not that Qubine was ever the festive type, and their so-called annual party was really just a low-key gathering with some food and drinks, but something did feel amiss without Qubine there. Paris kept giving David looks all day until David pulled him aside and told him he was seeing someone, but he wasn't going to give any detail.

Paris's face changed from worried to skeptical.

"I know it sounds like I'm making it up... but it's just easier for me this way. Less pressure."

Paris sighed. "Fair enough. But at least tell me: is he treating you well?"

"He's absolutely lovely."

"I'm glad."

"Now stop worrying like I'm your little sister."

Face reddening, Paris punched David lightly on the arm. "Come on, we both know you're the more grown up and capable one here."

"I have a few more lines around my eyes, and I can cook for myself, yes," said David. "So when are you going to drop by and try my cooking?"

It was a point that was silently understood and never discussed before, the fact that Paris had never visited his brother in Ebel City. And David was fine with that; for a long time Paris considered Ebel David's temporary residence, refusing to acknowledge that it was now his home. But it was about time this all changed, with Paris getting ever closer to proposing to his long time girlfriend and therefore moving his mother — and David, were he still living there — into the annex, and the fact that he finally accepted Ebel was better for David.

"How about next week?"

"Sounds good. I'll be waiting."

They headed back towards the main group.

"Just so you know, you are still the king of changing the topic."

"Good to know I haven't lost my touch."

By the time Qubine showed up again, Jean Paulet's wife had long retired with their baby for the night.

"You work too hard," Jean Paulet said, checking the time. It was almost three in the morning.

"There was no choice; it was an emergency." Qubine's gaze followed his friend's towards the ornate clock on the wall. "You shouldn't have waited."

"Oh, you knew we'd wait, mon ami, that's why you came back here rather than go straight home."

Elegantly hiding a yawn behind his hand, Jean Paulet tried to summon someone to make his friend a quick dinner, only to have David stop him, saying that it wouldn't be nice to make demands of the staff at this sort of hour, and he would go to the kitchen and throw something together instead.

Despite Jean Paulet's words, most of the others had gone home, leaving just him and David. That wasn't any problem at all since they could easily lose days chatting away if they had the time, and they were just talking about their college days when Qubine arrived. Jean Paulet said he'd like to get back into education again, if he could somehow fit that in alongside his duties.

The thought of going back to school with his friend enticed David, since college were the happiest days of his life, but he didn't think he could afford the time off work if he wanted to move back to Chandelier one day. A home in Level 3 would not be cheap and he was already not very good at saving money. Paris and his friends would not hesitate to help, of course, but the idea of accepting their money just didn't sit well with him.

It probably didn't matter anyway, David thought as he rummaged around in the fridge. He probably would never be ready to move back up here. It was possible to work as a hunter and live on Level 3, but even if he had the most lucrative contracts it would still be hard to maintain any standard of living. And right now his sanity depended on killing monsters regularly to relieve that frustration inside him, so he couldn't change jobs.

He did survive over five years of being in Chandelier without having to kill, but it was not easy. Earlier on, even Jean Paulet said that David was now a much more relaxed person than he used to be. David attributed it to growing up, but in reality he was acutely aware it was the result of what was practically self therapy. And if he could no longer have that, then he would just go back to how he used to be, or maybe even worse. It wasn't something David wanted to test out. He made a pact with Zephyr, after all.

"How bad is your allergy to alcohol, mon ami?" asked Jean Paulet when David went back to the lounge with a tray of food.

"I might die. Why?"

The expression on Jean Paulet's boyish face changed in an instant. "Oh no!" he all but cried, then jumped onto his feet, rushed over and removed the tray in David's hands, putting it down somewhere. "You looked so serious when you came in I thought I'd suggest a little tipple!"

"I'll have to pass. But don't—" David coughed when Jean Paulet threw his arms around him in more a collision than a hug, knocking the air out of his lungs. He looked over his friend's shoulder at Qubine, who shrugged at him. "What now?"

"I can't believe I almost suggested doing something that could kill you! Mon dieu, I'm so sorry!"

Patting people on the head seemed to be something that happened a lot lately, David thought to himself as he put his hand on Jean Paulet's head and tried to hold back a chuckle. "It's not as if you've actually fed me alcohol."

"But you could have died!"

His words clearly were not getting through. David met eyes with Qubine again.

"What have you traumatised him with when I was in the kitchen?"

Once more Qubine disclaimed all responsibility on their friend's behaviour with another shrug.

Suddenly, feeling a hand crossing his side and gliding towards his midriff, David tensed and pulled away, barely able to stop himself from yelping in surprise. It didn't deter Jean Paulet from what he was doing, though, his fingertips gliding over David's shirt in fascination.

"You really are very lean and muscular, David. You have six packs and everything! I wish I was built like you!"

For a few seconds David was at a loss for words. "Last time I checked, you don't play on my team," he said, backing away. Then finally he noticed the shot glasses on the table that weren't there before. "I was in the kitchen for ten minutes and you're drunk?"

"Not very drunk, only a little." Jean Paulet let him go. His face wasn't red and his eyes were clear, so David couldn't tell earlier. "I don't often get to be with you two without having to worry about what time I need to wake up for work tomorrow."

Qubine shrugged for the third time, even before David arched his eyebrow at him. "It makes him happy. Should I have stopped him?"

"Non! You should join me instead!"

If it made Jean Paulet happy, there really was no reason to stop him, especially since David didn't have to take part. He sat down and poured both his friends some of whatever it was that Jean Paulet had been drinking, and felt his eyes dry out from the fumes. Good grief, this stuff could probably drive him wild just by breathing it in.

Even so, Jean Paulet lasted another two hours before finally falling asleep, by which time some of the staff were already up to prepare for the start of the day.

David counted the damage. Qubine was being very careful and tactical, and he was sure Jean Paulet knew that and just didn't care. Still, between them they had gone through more than David had ever seen them drink.

"How are you still awake?"

"This was 90% his." Qubine sat back, gesturing at the empty bottles. "And I generally sleep less than most people anyway."

Good point. "I hope Emmy won't get mad at us."

"She might already be." Qubine's voice softened as his gaze landed on Jean Paulet's sleeping form. "He's had a tough few months because of me."

"What happened?"

David waited, but there were no explanations forthcoming. He had noticed that Jean Paulet had been ever so slightly quieter lately, but he thought it was because of his newborn child. He never mentioned there being anything that was troubling him, but if it had something to do with Qubine, and nobody said a word about it, then it must really be because of David. His stupid confession had strained their friendship.

Ignoring Qubine for a moment, David picked up his drunken and sleeping friend and put him down on a sofa where he could be more comfortable. Then he got his nearly empty bag of presents.

"Well, I got you something."

"Ah... sorry, I haven't..."

"Don't worry about it. Here." David handed the bag over. "I wasn't going to get you anything either, but then I saw this."

When Qubine pulled out his gift, shook it out and saw what it was, he let out what was possibly the warmest laugher David had ever heard from him.

"Where did you find this?"

"At the casino district, believe it or not. Hopefully this will get you going for another eight to ten years, hmm?"

Qubine turned the coat around, turned it inside out, checked the buttons, felt the fabric. It was exactly the same as the one that was hanging on the coat rack near the door right now, but brand new.

"I am seriously amazed. Thank you."

It wasn't as if David had to turn the world upside down to find it and even if he did, it was worth it just for that reaction. And it was right to give it away rather than hold onto it; the symbolism was too blindingly obvious for him to look away from, and perhaps by doing this he could actually start to let go and bury his feelings for good.

It would be better, not just for David but also for Qubine, Jean Paulet, Rush, Rowen if he drew a line under it all. It was long past time he stopped hurting them.

"I guess you're going back to work later. Why don't you take a nap in one of the guest rooms before going? I'll keep an eye on him," he said, going back to Jean Paulet, who had rolled from his side onto his back, "in case he needs to be sick."

Qubine blinked a few times. "I really should be the one..."

"I don't know how to save the world the way you do, but I do know how to stop a man from choking on his own vomit. You learn it if you're always the sober one."

"That shouldn't be that difficult."

"Are you that keen on having JP throw up all over you?"

Qubine recoiled with enough drama to make Jean Paulet proud. "I guess I should accept your gracious offer and get some rest."

"Goodnight, then."

After the sound of Qubine's footsteps faded away, David settled down on the sofa with a book. It looked like Jean Paulet was sleeping soundly. David could get the staff to look after him instead, but it was Christmas and everyone deserved a break.

He frowned, confused, when he felt a hand on his thigh.

"I don't think I ever told you before," muttered Jean Paulet with much more coherency than he should have, his eyes still shut, "but I'm really proud of you."

It took David a few moments to find his composure and reply.

"Stop feeling me up; I can't handle so much temptation and your wife and child are sleeping in the other room."

Jean Paulet chuckled and shuffled aside. "Are you sure? There's enough space here for two."

He had many guest rooms and his own bedroom where his wife was, and he wanted to share a sofa here instead. David wasn't sure what to say.

"As long as you won't throw up and Emmy won't kill me."

Jean Paulet just patted the space next to him.

With some hesitation David did as he was told, and quickly realised how relaxing it was to do this, to be next to someone who wanted nothing from him except friendship.

"I wish we went to junior school together. We could have gone camping."

"What's stopping you from putting a tent over the sofa now?"

"I don't have one."

"I'll get you one, late Christmas present. Then we can camp in your garden."

"Merveilleux. This will be fun; I've never gone camping before."

"Really? You seem pretty camp to me."

Jean Paulet laughed.

"So what's with the going back to school and all? Is everything okay?"

"Je ne sais pas."

"Really?"

"I... wish I could start over, be a better person."

"What? You're fine as you are."

"Merci, mon ami. I just wish I knew the people around me better. Then I could have been there for them more."

Silence.

Jean Paulet had been having it rough lately. It was time for an intervention.

"I'll get the tent, and throw in the gas stove and canned soups as well. Then we can talk all night long while eating soup."

"I'd like that."

"So... tell me something: how are you not drunk?"

"Runs in the family. We drink everyone under the table."

"And you managed to keep it from me all this time. So Charlotte is the same?"

"She's even better than me."

"Does Paris know? Should I warn him?"

"What's the fun in that?"

"Good point."


	36. The One

[AR1141, new year]

To anyone else, the blinking lights and beeping machines would be something out of a science fiction — or period drama, depending on one's viewpoint — film, indecipherable things that pretended to be important in the background as the protagonists discussed their pressing issues. But Rowen knew that right here, he was of minimal importance. It was all about the machines. Machines that could save them or break them.

Just like Zenith.

He peered down, over Qubine's shoulder, at the screen. Since Qubine figured out how to use the equipment and read its output back in 1134, he had trained a small team to continuously monitor them. Rowen had also made sure he learned the methods.

"It's faded," he said, straightening himself. "The team is right; there is nothing out there now."

"It does seem that way," Qubine said quite cautiously, glancing over his shoulder briefly to meet eyes with Rowen. "I want to say it was just bad weather, but..."

"The alarm had never been triggered before, and the weather had been fine."

"I need to find some ways to test the sensitivity and check the calibration."

"Can it be done?"

Qubine took a moment to think before giving a firm nod. It was one of resolution, not confidence. "It'll require sending something outside to manually activate the proximity triggers."

Sending something outside, Now that was something Rowen never said out loud before. Even the team, who had been keeping busy trying to work out if Basel was really under attack, all stopped to look at them. But how else could they test if their defence warning system was working?

"Tell me what you need and I'll have it arranged."

"I'll have it worked out by tomorrow. It won't be anything that catches too much attention."

"Good."

Rowen hoped this was only a freak occurrence, perhaps one of them out there unknowingly strayed too close, or it was just an animal or a monster. But he had to be prepared that what took place in Lucia might be about to happen again. Antourion and Garigliano had been a big help in that respect, putting the military on alert as quietly as possible.

"I will stay here for a bit, if you don't mind. If there are changes I'll let you know at the first instance."

Rowen knew what that meant. He remembered some years ago a man, young in his years but already jaded, learning about this place full of machines that nobody knew how to use, and becoming determined to figure it out. Qubine lived here for a week, by the end of which he had mastered what turned out to be a system that monitored the area surrounding Basel.

Antourion believed that had they been able to use this sooner, they could have prevented the invasion nine years ago and Lucia would not have crumbled. Rowen disagreed; even if they knew those people were coming, they could not have stopped them. But now maybe they stood a chance, once again thanks to this young man, a bit older now, having already taken Basel's defense one step further.

Qubine's solution was currently inside Rowen's bedside drawer.

"I'll increase the security here."

"Too soon. People will notice and worry."

"I'll get some hunters then." Rowen could think of the perfect candidate for this. "I'll ask David."

Qubine's reaction was surprisingly negative. "I would rather that you don't." He looked away. "He is a friend and therefore less conspicuous, but because he is a friend, he will ask questions."

"I think he would be more professional than that."

"Even so, he would be a distraction. The security here is sufficient; the risk of a research facility being under attack is about the same as any other place."

It wasn't discomfort that Rowen could detect in Qubine's voice, but he couldn't tell what it was. David said he'd spent the day after Christmas together with Jean Paulet and Qubine, after Qubine turned up late at night. If there had been an argument between the old friends, Rowen had not heard about it.

Could it be possible that—

Rowen took a deep breath and stopped that thought before it had a chance of becoming anything coherent.

"Fine. If anything changes and you want additional security, let me know."

Once he was sure he had been understood, he got ready to leave. Qubine could get a lot done by staying, whereas Rowen's presence helped nothing. Yes, his job was to lead, to oversee and delegate in the most efficient manner and logically, he knew trusting this team and leaving them to it was the best thing he could do. But logic didn't make him feel better; he still felt a sense of duty, just like Qubine.

For everything else, Qubine usually charged a nominal consultancy fee. But he had never asked for a single ruby for all his time spent here in Aetersyl. This should never have been his job alone, putting a team together, getting everyone up to speed, finding ways to defend Basel. If Rowen was more competent...

"I'll be going. Thank you." Rowen sighed. "This really should not be your job."

"On the contrary, I feel this is exactly what I should be doing."

Did Qubine mean that doing this gave meaning to his life? Or that he was born with such intellect exactly so he could protect Basel? Or that this was something only he could do, so clearly it was his job whether he liked it or not?

"Go, Rowen. You've not slept for two days."

Rowen carefully avoided pointing out that Qubine and his team were not much better, and made his leave.

 

The lights were on when Rowen got home, escorted to the gate by a guard. Having sent his staff home for the holidays, he would have reacted and reached for his gun had he not heard familiar voices before the door fully opened to reveal Roeas and David. He looked at them, confused.

"Roeas, you're on holiday."

"I couldn't get hold of you on the phone but I needed to check the schedule." She jutted a thumb at David. "You don't mind that I let him in, do you?"

"No, though I admit I am slightly surprised, with the tea and all."

David smiled and poured a cup for Rowen. "The night we went to the fashion show, perhaps I neglected to mention that Roeas's husband is a good friend of mine. I'm sorry about that, but I did have other things on my mind."

Thinking back, David's reaction that evening when he saw Roeas now made much more sense. It did still make Rowen feel he like he'd been tricked, but it wasn't as if they had spent much time together recently to even have a decent conversation. "Small world."

"Well, I have the piece of paper I need, so I'll leave you two alone." Roeas finished her tea and swiftly let herself out without another word, winking at David just before she shut the door.

Taking off his coat and sitting down, Rowen drank some tea, quiet for a moment.

"I can go as well, if you want."

"No, stay." It had been nearly a week since they last saw each other. Rowen felt a bit guilty about that. "I just didn't know when I could be home and I didn't want you to wait around for me. Things have been chaotic."

When David put a hand on his cheek, Rowen felt his whole body relaxing, and his mind calming down a little. He'd missed David more than he realised. The fact that David had been waiting for him to come home was unbelieveable. He'd said this wasn't a good time, that he couldn't commit, that Rowen was only going to be his rebound, all these things that meant he would be a terrible choice for Rowen. But in the short time since they had been together — he still couldn't quite believe this was real — David had been nothing but attentive, tolerant and just... beautiful.

"You need sleep."

"I need you." He turned his head to place a kiss on the palm, eyes fixed on David's, watching the words register, feeling the way David's hand move, thumb lightly stroking his lips.

"About damn time."

 

He woke up in his bed. Disorientation hit him first, and then calmness, contentment, peace.

David was right here beside him. Rowen couldn't see much in the darkness, but he could tell from the warmth, from the weight of an arm on his side. Details of the night before came back to him: kneeling behind David, thrusting inside him. David muffling his own voice with a pillow until he was reminded nobody could hear them. The way he laughed when Rowen growled and gripped his hair. How he moved away, pushed Rowen down with a strength that surprised him, and climbed onto his lap...

David shifted, lifting his hand to brush Rowen's fringe away from his eyes.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

How did David even manage to tell he was awake? "No, I'm just a light sleeper."

"You need more rest. I bet you've been working non-stop. I couldn't get hold of you at all." David nudged himself closer, letting his legs tangle with Rowen's.

"I should have called. I apologise."

The short answer devoid of any information and the silence that followed was enough for David to understand this was not something Rowen was willing to discuss. But if that bothered him, he didn't let it show.

"I'm hoping you don't have to go back to work too soon..." David's voice drifted off as Rowen turned towards him, rolling onto his chest so that he half lay on top of David.

"I have New Year's service in the morning, other than that I think I won't need to go anywhere tomorrow." Rowen buried his face in the crook of David's neck. "Can you stay?"

"I can even stay exactly how I am now." For emphasis, David took Rowen's hand and put it on his hip.

What a little devil. Rowen had a feeling he would deliver tomorrow's service in record time.

"I guess this means this old man didn't disappoint too badly." Rowen kissed David's neck, his hand sliding up from hip to chest and down again, feeling the warm skin. David hummed in appreciation.

"Shush and go back to sleep before I change my mind and jump your bones. In which case, good luck explaining the hickies to the congregation."

"The beauty of youth. Always so eager."

"Not always, but I fucking loved what you did. Excuse my language."

Rowen couldn't help but laugh.

"You're gorgeous, David."

"Fucking gorgeous?"

"Fucking gorgeous."

 

The front door opened, Roeas letting herself in just as Zephyr put down the phone. She'd been gone for a few hours after David asked her for a favour and they both went out.

"David won't be back tonight," she said, putting down bags of takeaway food on a table. "I did buy enough for four, if your other housemates want to join in."

Zephyr went over to check what was on offer. "What were you guys up to?"

"He needed some help with his man... it's someone I know."

"Huh." So what Jean Paulet said on the phone was right, then. He was trying to get Zephyr to tell him who David was seeing and Zephyr said he wasn't even sure if David was seeing anyone.

"By the way, he asked if I wanted to move in."

"He did?" It didn't surprise Zephyr, actually. David was a generous person. "What did you say?"

"That I'll run it by everyone else."

It would be nice if Roeas lived here. Zephyr's room was big enough for a new bed and her belongings, and they could save a lot of money on rent. The idea had crossed their minds before, but it was too much to ask David and the others. It was different though if they actually made the offer first.

"Ask them in a minute."

"Do they even know we got married?"

"Leanne does; she'd spotted my ring the next day. Don't know about Vashyron." Even if Vashyron did know, he would probably pretend to be completely naive.

Roeas smirked. "This is going to be a fun. Let's ask them over dinner."

"So who's David seeing?"

She shook her head. "One thing I can say though: unless that Qubine changes his mind, this is probably The One. David's a smart one; he knows what's good for him and he'd settle for that."

Zephyr wondered about the accuracy of that prediction. Roeas didn't know about quartz and how that affected David's decisions.

They took a break from the gossip and Zephyr went to get the door when the bell rang. It opened to reveal Rush on the other side, wrapped up warm against the weather with his scarf halfway up his face. He tucked it down a bit.

"Hey," he said with an easy smile, "just thought I'd drop by and say happy new year. I was down the road to get some shopping done."

"Oh. Thanks. Same to you."

Rush waved at Roeas over Zephyr's shoulder. "Dave's not here?"

"He's not home today."

"Ha, figures."

"We're gonna have dinner soon, if you wanna join us, come on in."

"Nah, gotta go see my 'rents. Thanks for the offer though! I'll come round another day with pizza or something." Rush put his hands back in his pockets. "See ya."

"Amending what I said just now," Roeas said after Rush was gone, "unless that Qubine changes his mind, the man David's seeing now is probably The One, or he might be," she pointed at the front door with her chin. "And I suppose I shouldn't have used the word 'settle', it's not really fair on them or David."

Zephyr was extremely glad that his love life was simple. David had told him before that if he ever lost it, Rush was the person to look for. That meant Rush must know a lot about David's background and still liked him regardless. Kind of like how Roeas was with him.

That thought almost made Zephyr root for Rush right away, but David was seeing someone now and like Roeas said, he must know what was good for him.

But, "unless Qubine changes his mind?"

"That man is in a very complicated position and has even more complicated feelings. There's a lot of 'can't' and 'mustn't' and 'never never never never'."

"Really?"

"I'm pretty sure. A guy like him is either going to die really young, or die old and alone."

"Ouch, harsh."

"Oh, he knows it himself, I can tell."

"Is there anything you don't know?"

"If we never met and David made a move on you, would you have gone for it?"

"I'm not answering that." Even as Zephyr replied, he knew his non-answer was enough of a giveaway.

"Thought so. He can have any man he want."

"Except Qubine?"

"Except Qubine."

 

"Have a feeling about it" was one of the most non-scientific explanations to anything in life, yet such things as "feelings" were the explanation to many major human phenomenons: religious beliefs, love, emotional pain, to name a few. Although he was a scientist working in many fields, this was not one Qubine had studied, mostly because he could not afford the time for psychological science.

At this moment, Qubine had a feeling that the proximity triggers were tripped by someone from the real world outside and that someone had an intention on Basel. He wished such a feeling could be verified, but the best he could do was to test and calibrate the sensors to find out if they were working correctly.

He had devised a remote controlled aircraft, small enough to be mistaken for a toy, and had it flown out from Aetersyl. Within the next minute a final set of sensors should detect it and sound the alarm.

The mood in the room was mixed when the alarm went off. The fact that the defense system worked was reassuring but everyone, except Qubine, was hoping that when it happened at Christmas it was just a glitch.

Qubine hoped for an invasion, and he had a feeling there would soon be one.

Nine years. It had been a long wait, and he was as ready as he could ever be.


	37. Research and Discovery

[AR1141, winter/spring]

"Be careful kiddo, watch out for pickpockets!"

"Geez, really, I ain't a kid anymore!" Rush grumbled, although he knew nothing was going to change however much he complained.

"Of course." His father laughed. "Good night! Tell Irina not to work too hard!"

Rush started his way home, descending a flight of stairs and then down a stone-paved street, choosing the cobbled side for the novelty of feeling the texture through his soles. He had just had dinner at his parent's house, and by now most of the shops were closed; there were areas of Level 3 that were open all hours but not at this bit of the Outer Wall, which was bustling during the day but quiet when the skies got dark.

It was only a short walk to the Core Lift and street lamps lit his way there. He slowed down when he spotted someone at a junction a little way ahead, looking like they were heading for the lift as well. Could that be.,.

That person's eyes met Rush's. It really was who he thought it was. He went over.

"Hey, long time no see!"

 

Once in a rare while, if Rowen could afford the time, he went to Café Charlotte for coffee. It wasn't too far from David's home and it was the best he could do given the circumstances. If David lived alone at somewhere without much foot traffic then perhaps Rowen could visit, but it didn't matter too much really, because David rather enjoyed these non-dates. It wasn't that he didn't like being at Rowen's place, but he was usually only there in the evening and had to leave in the morning. Rowen needed all the rest he could get so making him stay up at night would be very inconsiderate.

At the cafe they managed to talk more and David could appreciate Rowen more than just what he could do in bed or how serene he looked when he was asleep. Besides, being seen together in public as friends meant if they were caught together under more dubious circumstances they could probably convince people there was nothing untoward going on.

"How is it?"

The end of the fork still in his mouth, Rowen frowned, puzzled by David's question. Without explanation, David took away Rowen's cake and put a different one in front of him.

"Try this one."

Doing as he was told, Rowen tried the other cake as he eyed David with mild suspicion.

"Which is better?"

Rowen pointed at the second one with his fork. "This. It's not as sweet."

"Damn." David sat back and laughed. "JP made that. I should've known you'd prefer something less sweet, you never take sugar with your coffee."

Rowen blinked at the revelation. "Jean Paulet bakes?"

"He doesn't normally, we were just mucking about. Charlotte took these for the staff to try, they aren't supposed to go to the customers."

"How domestic," said Rowen, somewhat amused.

"I think 'gay' is the word you are looking for. Honestly, if I didn't know better I would've thought he was turning. But I've been a rubbish friend lately, so I was finding ways to spend more time with him."

"I thought with a baby he would have his hands full."

"He does, but..." to say more would be to tell Rowen things Jean Paulet didn't necessarily want his leader to know. "This is different."

Thinking about it, he still had to make good of that promise of camping in Jean Paulet's garden. The weather was slowly becoming less cold, so they should be able to do that soon.

Rowen accepted David's explanation as it was, and ate both slices of cake. When he finished, he put the fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"David... you must have figured out that there has been an ongoing situation since Christmas." He stared at his coffee for a moment. "Which is why my work hours have been very irregular."

"And always very long, yes." The change of topic made David start, but he nodded. "You're looking more and more worn out." He didn't say the next part of the sentence, "I worry about you," because they were in public, but he assumed Rowen knew that already.

"The team working on this are ploughing on like a sturdy machine; it does make me feel my age," said Rowen. "It's hard to say when the situation is going to change, but on a positive note, measures are now in place, as well as schedules. From now on I should know when I need to be at work."

This was the best news David had heard in a long time. Remaining firmly in his chair and resisting the urge to lean across and kiss Rowen, he just smiled instead. "That's good to know. It's not a break but at least you can plan your life more easily now."

"I do believe some planning is in order, yes."

A shadow fell over their table. Someone David had spotted out of the corner of his eyes, but thought was better to pretend not to have seen, had come over.

"Rowen? And you're... David?"

They both looked up. David reacted first.

"Cardinal Veronique!" He stood up to greet his old teacher. "It's been years. How're you?"

Both her smile and her voice were as gentle as he remembered from the college days. "It's good to see you. I'm quite well. And how are you? I didn't expect to bump into you here."

David hoped she didn't mean "I didn't expect to see you at a nice place like this." Veronique had always been lovely to him, she wasn't the sort of person to judge, but was definitely the sort of person to not really think her words through.

"I work for the cafe," he told her. "Mostly on security-related things."

"I see. You're looking well, I'm glad." She turned to the other man at the table. "This is an unexpected combination, but it's good to see you're finally taking a break."

"Don't get on my case. It's not as if I have a choice," said Rowen, in more of a _there you go again, old friend_ manner rather than in annoyance. The sight made David wonder if this was how his future was going to be like, still failing to really chastise Qubine on his lifestyle of work first, everything else later.

"Delegate, Rowen. Delegate." She looked over her shoulder. "My order is ready. Maybe I'll see you two later."

The two men watched Veronique collect her takeaway order, and nodded at her when she waved goodbye.

Rowen drank his coffee. "Twenty years, and she's still the same."

"Is this about the delegation? I'm afraid I'm with her on that one."

"I'm already working with the very best, who insist on taking work off me. My share of the scheduled work is shamefully small compared with the others."

"But you also have your regular, actual job to do." David shrugged sitting back. "Well, I know what people say won't change your mind anyway."

Rowen frowned, suspicious. David chuckled.

"No, really. I'm not being sarcastic. That's just how you are. If you're not neglecting your health, then no one has any right to tell you to stop or guilt-trip you into easing up."

"Not even, say, a partner?"

"It's fair enough if they make suggestions that might help you, but if they try to make you stop, then they either don't understand you or they're just selfish, don't you think? It's not as if your job as a cardinal is a secret you reveal to people after you start dating them."

The words made Rowen pause, stunned. On the table, his hand reached forward before jerking back as he remembered where they were.

"Not everyone is that understanding."

David tipped his head, dismissive of the compliment. As someone with too much to hide, he couldn't possibly get annoyed with Rowen, who was straightforward and everything he presented himself to be, and who could only hope that it was enough, that he was enough. It would take a moron to ignore all that and complain or, even worse, move the goalpost of what they expected from the relationship.

Judging by Rowen's reaction, this probably meant his previous partner was a moron.

They stayed at the cafe for a bit longer, until Rowen checked his watch and David could tell he had to head back to work, despite it being near dinner time.

"Come on," he stood, leaving some money on the table. "I'll walk you to the lift."

They were at the door when, again, they ran into people they knew. Seeing those faces, David laughed.

"Look what the JP dragged in."

Beside Jean Paulet, Qubine arched a decidedly unimpressed eyebrow at David. He must have just come off work. Normally it would make more sense for Qubine to go home and get some rest, but for someone who didn't rate rest very highly, some time with friends was probably just as good for him.

There was no way to tell what Rowen was thinking, but after exchanging greetings with the newcomers, he suggested that he could go the the Core Lift by himself. Perhaps even he could tell that Qubine was in need of some company.

David agreed, but still left with him and found a place where he could kiss Rowen without being seen, before returning to the cafe. It looked like he was going to see all the cardinals today.

"So, what have you been up to, mon ami?" Jean Paulet asked as soon as David returned, sitting down at the table they picked near the windows. Qubine was tugging out a notebook from his coat and jotting down something, seemingly uninterested in what was going on around him.

"You saw. I was hanging out with Rowen," said David, who added, when Jean Paulet looked confused, "Well, teaching him how to hang. He hasn't got many friends, I gather, because you guys aren't very nice to him."

"Lies and slander!" Jean Paulet gasped at the accusation that seemed to have come from nowhere, pounding the table hard enough to make coffee cups jump. "I work hard for him and hold him in the highest regard!"

"I'm sure you do. Everyone sees and treats him as their boss..."

"But very few care about him as a friend." Qubine spoke up. "I agree. He's a good man, and rather interesting. I would go as far as saying he can be quite fun."

Jean Paulet asked the question before David could. "And what kind of fun have you had with him?"

Qubine looked up from his notes, smirking. "I don't kiss and tell."

Although David knew that was a joke, the mental imagery it conjured was one he didn't know how to handle.

"Mon di—"

"We chat. And drink. The way I do with you two. But our schedules very rarely allow for that."

David could imagine that. They were both workaholics, after all. The fact that Qubine considered Rowen as a friend made him feel slightly weird though. Should he be happy about that?

"Fine!" Jean Paulet pouted. "Since you two are so obviously friends with him, maybe I'll try to be nicer to him and invite him to 'fun' things. We can all go for drinks."

That would be extra weird. It should be a good thing, because if David's friends got to know Rowen better, then if the relationship got discovered theoretically it should be easier for them to accept it. But it still meant Qubine, Rowen and him in a room together.

"We can do that."

"But he is not coming to our tent date!"

That caught Qubine's attention again. "What is a tent date?"

"It's the campest sort of dates."

Jean Paulet fought down a giggle as Qubine looked from him to David. "Need I remind you that this is a married man and a father?"

David shrugged, nonchalant. "They don't call me men-bender for nothing."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not." David briefly wondered what kind of nickname Nora would give Qubine if they knew each other. "Anyway, it's all well and good to say we're going to meet up again, but it depends on you. The last time I saw you was weeks ago."

"I've been working. I was on my way home for a quick break but unfortunately this joker caught sight of me and dragged me here."

"You're not missing meals, I hope."

"Of course not."

This reminded David of the cakes. He left the table briefly to bring back two slices. After a blind tasting, Qubine picked the one David made and Jean Paulet mock sobbed into his lace-trimmed cuffs.

"If it helps, Rowen preferred yours," David told his friend, trying to hold back a triumphant smile.

"How about the kitchen staff?"

"They think we're both rubbish."

Qubine retreated behind his notes. "I can see why you two are going to have the campest of dates."

"We are. Don't be jealous, we would have included you but you are always so busy."

"That's fine, you two enjoy yourselves. I only hope I won't get nightmares about it."

"You say that as if you actually sleep. In fact I'm surprised that you're taking a break from work."

Qubine didn't look up. "I got kicked out and told to go to bed."

The friends both snorted, and David patted Qubine on the shoulder in false sympathy.

"Just what are you working on now anyway? You aren't even doing it at your cave."

"Research."

What was the likelihood that this was also what Rowen was also working on? David cast his mind back to Christmas, when Rowen was suddenly called away and Qubine rushed to Aetersyl. But Rowen wasn't a scientist, so what kind of important research would require so much of their attention?

Maybe they were working separately and the timing was just a coincidence. That would make more sense. It also made David feel better to not think that the man he lay next to at night spent his days at the place where his sanity was robbed.

As for Qubine, all kinds of research took place at Aetersyl. Whatever he was working on, he would never do anything vile like his mother did, right? Even if that was the very peak of biological science for those in the field, Qubine must know where to draw the line.

"Research?"

Jean Paulet never used to be one to press for a better answer. David had noticed a change since last year, but it was still a surprise whenever he did it.

"Yes, research."

The heartthrob of Basel tried a different tactic, and fluttered his eyelashes at Qubine, who rolled his eyes.

"I don't have the clearance to talk about it."

It was a reply nobody could argue with.

They didn't stay long since Qubine was actually starting to get tired, having wound down enough for his body to be drained of its adrenaline and realise it needed to rest.

David walked them to the lift, arching an eyebrow when Jean Paulet slowed down to stroll with him behind Qubine, briefly reminded of the day when they were walking to the lift and his friend told him it was time to confess to Qubine.

"I'm going to see what I can find out about his work." Jean Paulet sighed when David gave him a questioning look. "Pater tried going through the channels and hit a wall, but my authority is higher than his, I might get somewhere."

"This sounds extreme."

"Pater says Qubine wouldn't tell anyone where he's gone, and now he doesn't even go home anymore. It's worrying, mon ami. You know how he can get obsessed with something and get into trouble for it."

David fell silent, watching the man they were discussing walk ahead of them. Qubine said earlier that people forced him to drop the work and take rest, if that was true it meant he was working with other people and that was probably better than the alternative. But Jean Paulet was right, this was worrying.

"Are you free this Saturday?"

David nodded. He hoped that wouldn't be the one day Rowen was free.

"Bring your tent and we'll talk about this then?"

"Let's do that."

 

"You need a hand?"

"We're good, thanks."

Roeas picked up one of her boxes and started moving it upstairs. Following behind her, Zephyr tried to take two, tested the balance and decided that was a bad idea and put down one of them.

Stopping at the foot of the stairs, Zephyr shifted his box to one side. "Hey guys. Thanks."

Vashryon shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me. David's the one who's gotta share the bathroom and the kitchen with an extra person."

"If I think there'd be a problem I wouldn't have made the offer. Don't worry about it," said David, going to help with the boxes too. It was a known fact that the men in this house were the ones who spent the longest in the bathroom, but David was quite okay with doing his hair in his bedroom instead. Leanne had made fun of him about it once, back when they all lived in the other side of the house, but he told her vanity was a way of helping him care about himself, and she never talked about it since then.

They went upstairs, with Vashryon down below shouting, "but if she has any pretty female friends, make sure she invites them over!"

The move took no time at all; Roeas didn't have a lot with her, she said most of her things were still at her family home. When it was done, the housemates had tea together and called it a night. It was around then that Rush arrived, having called earlier to say he was on his way.

"How's it going?" asked Rush as David made hot chocolate for them both. "Life's good with your new man?"

It had been three months but it seemed like the novelty hadn't worn off yet for Rush. "We're fine." David handed the hot drink over. "He's been extremely busy lately but we still try to see each other a couple of times a week at least. And his staff don't even batter an eyelid when I stay over; they're very loyal and professional."

"Wow." Rush was genuinely impressed. "So... is he any good?"

"In bed?" David blew on his hot chocolate. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"I'd say I don't but who am I kidding?"

Rush was such an honest guy. David smiled. "Well. People say that with age comes experience — it turns out that's true. And he's fairly well-built. I haven't got anything to complain about."

Rush's face had a hint of red. "Oh man, mental images I don't need."

"You asked."

"I know."

"And a funny thing..."

"Yeah?"

David wondered if he should be talking about this. "Normally I... I'm not the adventurous sort. But with him, sometimes I get a little bit rough and I'm quite happy for him to do the same to me. It's nothing very kinky, just a bit of hair pulling, shoving, and the like. But I never let other people do that with me before. He had me pushed against a wall once, and instead of fighting back I was just really turned on. I don't know if it's because I'm starting to trust people more, or if I just trust him."

"Well, I'm sure my face is beet red now, but I'm happy for you. Who knew you two would be a good match?"

It was a few months ago that they sat together and he asked Rush what he should do about Rowen, and Rush, unlike what other people would have done, overlooked the fact that Rowen was a cardinal who was much older than David. So David really had Rush to thank for this.

"Enough about me." David tested his drink. It was still too hot. "You said there was something you wanted to talk about?"

Rush put his mug down. "Yeah, there's something I want to run by you first."

"And that is?"

"How would you feel if I went out with one of your ex's?"

What a strange question. "I'm not the sort of person to have a problem with that." unless Rush was counting the one night stands, which would be awful since that meant he knew who they were, then there really weren't many people who David would consider as an ex-boyfriend. "You're asking Rhagoh out?"

"Um, well, no."

"Then who are you talking about?"

"It's not technically Rhagoh. Actually I guess technically it is Rhagoh, but I'm talking about Kate." Rush obviously expected David to be totally speechless, so he carried on. "Actually, even if you've got a problem with that, it's too late 'cos I'm seeing her already."

David did not know what to say, or how he felt, about this. There were too many questions in his head. Kate, Rhagoh's dead twin and other identity, who shared a body with him?

"Kate?" That was all David managed to say.

"I bumped into her at Chandelier a while ago. I thought it was Rhagoh, turned out Kate was in charge at the time. We kinda hit it off, saw each other a few more times, and I asked her out."

"But how does that work? How does Rhagoh feel about this?"

"Rhagoh told me he isn't sure how he feels about it yet. Kate says he's doing the equivalent of huddling in a corner rocking back and forth, but if he says no then it's over."

"If there is one thing I know, it's that she is very protective of him." So protective that David couldn't help but worry. In his mind, Kate was a dangerous character.

"I think the problem's to do with boundaries. Like I wouldn't want to be there when Irina's doing stuff with her boyfriend, even if he's hot and I'm seeing it through her eyes, if you get what I mean."

"I suppose. Though I don't know much about how the two of them coexist."

"They share everything, so if Kate touches something, Rhagoh feels it too. The only difference is who is the one calling the shots at the time."

"So..."

"So I reckon the best thing for me to do is to go out with Rhagoh too." Rush took his mug and drank from it. "He's gorgeous, I really like him, almost as much as I like Kate. Kate thinks he's sweet with me too but he's just scared of the whole thing."

His elbows resting on his lap, David clutched his hands together and pressed his mouth against them. What was he supposed to make of this? The insanity of the situation aside, Rush liked Kate? The one who forced him and Rhagoh apart? The one whose eyes saw straight through him and whose smirk sent a chill down his spine?

"Rush." He turned towards his friends, eyes narrowing. "Do you not remember what she did?"

Rush's smile cooled down a notch. "And?"

"And? She threatened me and laughed in my face. She lives in Rhagoh's head! She's probably not stable or sane!"

His face visibly darkening, Rush kept his voice down. "I appreciate you're always honest with me, but you're talking about my girlfriend here."

His girlfriend? David felt his head spin. Zenith couldn't get to him through Rhagoh, so now it's trying through Rush?

"This can't be good for you!"

"Don't you think that I would've thought about that? Don't you think I'd have talked to her about it? She was frightened! She knew there was something odd about you, she couldn't put her finger on it but she thought she had to stop you. She threatened you because she was scared of you! Do you think she wanted to upset her brother the way she did?"

The outburst took David aback. No, he hadn't thought about it that way.

"But still... the thought of Kate... I just don't..."

"Rhagoh forgave her. I didn't realise you're still holding a grudge. I knew this'd weird you out but I thought you were better than this." Rush stood up. "She's not stable or sane? Pot and kettle, Dave. But you're allowed to love whereas she isn't?"

David flinched, standing up as well. Rush was truly angry. He didn't think he had ever seen him like this before, and he didn't want to ever again. Was he being a hypocrite? Had Kate been suffering when all he thought was that she was evil? Had he disappointed this one important friend who wanted to share good news with him only to have it thrown back in his face?

"Rush, hold on," David said when Rush picked up his jacket. "I'm sorry."

Rush sighed. He wouldn't look at him. "I know. She really upset you and made you think there's some greater force at work, you're the only one out of all of us who knows the whole story."

They were at the door. "I'm sorry. I really am. I can't believe how much of a hypocrite I am."

"It's fine. I'm still mad though so I'm gonna go home before I say anything stupid. By tomorrow I'll be fine."

"Okay." David dipped his head. "Can I give you a call tomorrow?"

"Sure. After dinner. G'night, Dave."

"Goodnight."

After the door was shut, David dropped down into the sofa, staring at the half empty mugs of chocolate. He could not believe how he acted just now. What a disappointment this must have been for Rush.

But perhaps there was something he could do right now to try to fix this.

He reached over for the phone and dialled a number.

"Hello? Sorry for calling so late, but is Rhagoh there?"


	38. Tent Date

[AR1141, winter/spring]

"So I called up my ex and said: hey, I heard things are hotting up for you. Rush's been my good friend for a decade, he's a great guy and you really can't go wrong with him. Give him a chance."

"And what did he say?"

"He said: if he's such a great guy, then why aren't you going out him?"

"Touché. So why aren't you dating Rush, anyway?"

"Would you believe me if I said it's because of bad timing?"

"Hmmm, peut-être. Maybe."

"I tried calling Rush the night after that, but no one picked up. I hope he's not still mad at me."

"Don't worry too much, mon ami. Maybe he's just gone out with your ex!"

"I hope so."

He had to simplify the story and omit some details, but David felt a little bit better now, having talked about it with Jean Paulet.

"Oh oh oh, it's bubbling!"

"Then it's ready. Pass me the bowls?"

They sat at the entrance of their tent, eating heated canned soup. This was kind of fun, in a strange way. David did run it by Emmy first; it felt like lately he'd been occupying her husband's time a lot instead of letting them have some quality family time together. Luckily she was on board with the idea that Jean Paulet was in need of his friends.

The night was warmer than they had expected, so after they finished eating, they unrolled their sleeping bags and laid them out with the top end outside the tent.

"Look at those stars!"

"It's quite a sight." Being on Chandelier rather than under its bright light, it was much easier to see the stars at night.

Jean Paulet fell silent for a moment, then spoke again, his voice softer now. "A while ago, I think it was before Christmas, Qubine asked me if I wanted to go stargazing with him."

"He did?" Qubine making a social invitation. How rare.

"I should have gone. Maybe there was something he wanted to talk about. But I didn't realise and told him I had to stay home with Agnetha... apparently he went on his own anyway, but he came here quite soon after and said the moon was too bright for stargazing, or something like that. Something seemed wrong with him but he wouldn't tell me what it was. And after that he's plunged himself back into work. Oh, David, I think I did the wrong thing. He must have wanted to talk."

David didn't know what to say. If it was him he would have dropped everything and went with Qubine, but he wasn't the one with a newborn child.

"How were you supposed to know? Don't blame yourself."

"He looked really out of sorts. I had tickets to a fashion show and I said if he wanted to, we could still make it to the afterparty, or I could go back to the Square Garden with him, maybe the moon would be lower by then, but he said no, he just wanted a quiet night in."

David covered his mouth with a hand to stop himself from swearing.

Before Christmas. The night of the fashion show. Square Garden. The moon.

Qubine'd found out. He'd known all this time that David was seeing Rowen.

"David?"

"That... does seem a bit worrying."

"And now he's working non-stop, not going home, not telling anyone where he's been or what he's doing," said Jean Paulet. "I tried finding out, but there aren't any records."

"You told me Pater had hit a wall, but you as well?"

"It's not even like that. There are no records or reports to find! Whatever he is working on, it's not in any official capacity as far as I can tell."

David felt his blood chill. Qubine had been at Aetersyl all this time on "unofficial business"?

"David," shuffling in his sleeping bag, Jean Paulet turned on his side to face his friend, "I know this worries you, but I don't want to keep it from you. Qubine would never ever do anything bad or illegal, but at this rate he'll run himself to the ground and nobody'll even notice."

Forcing a smile, David nodded. "I understand. I'll keep an eye on him as well."

"Are you cold? You've gone pale."

"You can tell with my dark skin?"

"Your lips have lost colour."

"Stop staring at them. I know they're tempting, but..." if Qubine already knew, even if he hadn't told anyone it was only fair that Jean Paulet also knew, David thought. "You're married, and I'm taken."

Jean Paulet blinked several time in surprise, having not expected David to bring this up. Then he smiled.

"Tall Guy, hmm?"

"He is pretty tall," David said, his gaze shifting from the sky above to the friend beside him. " I'd appreciate if you can keep this a secret: I'm seeing Rowen. As in Cardinal Rowen."

He could have sworn Jean Paulet fainted briefly. Then those huge eyes just stared at him, the mouth hanging open slightly. David decided he had to say something to get the conversation going again.

"Before you ask: I didn't bend him. He asked me out."

"This... I..."

"Mon dieu?"

"Exactly! But I.... this is... he's... are you happy? Is he good to you? Are you happy?"

David smiled and nodded, and cackled when Jean Paulet wriggled himself towards him, sleeping bag and all, so that he could throw himself onto David, who made a sound of pain when a head landed on his chest.

"To be honest, at first the idea was rather terrifiant, but the more I think about it... I see why you've been so secretive about it, but oh, David! My best friend is dating the man I respect the most in the world!"

"Are you sure that's not Garigliano?"

"Rowen, Qubine and you, and then maybe Garigliano." Jean Paulet grinned.

"Oh, you." David unzipped his sleeping bag enough to pull an arm out and pat his friend on the head. All these years and Jean Paulet was still like a puppy. "Now get off me. You're heavier than you look."

"I bet you don't say that when Cardinal Rowen is on top of you."

With a quick turn, David forced his friend to roll off. "No, but he's performing a service which I hope you're not trying to."

Jean Paulet laughed.

"Really? You've never even considered me?"

"You're the epitome of friendzone, so no, never." Jean Paulet was fluttering his eyelashes at him. David sighed, quickly zipping up his bag again. "Not since the second week of college anyway. You completely confused me in the first week."

"Good to know I had your heart, if only for a little while!" A giggle. "You really do prefer the intellectual type, n'est-ce pas?"

"I don't think I have a type. Maybe I just don't want to be with anyone who's better looking than me."

"Oh, how you flatter."

 

It was easy to say that he would keep an eye on Qubine, but there was no way to contact him short of going to Aetersyl. And even if David went there, what was the chance of the guards there actually letting him in or contacting Qubine for him?

"He would never do anything bad or illegal," Jean Paulet had said. Of course he was right. But the intensity and secrecy of Qubine's work unsettled David, and he could taste fear in the back of his throat. Maybe he'd discovered his mother's work and was trying to learn more about it, and sooner or later he would find out about David and Zephyr.

What then?

Just the thought of it made David feel sick.

Should he try to catch Qubine? Wait for him somewhere near Aetersyl? But David had to work, and what if Rowen asked him where he'd been? And if he did get to see Qubine, what could he say to him? Maybe Qubine would finally tell him what he was working on, and David's mind would be put to rest. But it was far more likely that Qubine would remain tight-lipped and what was David going to say then, "please don't ever look into the research your mother did at Aetersyl"?

The man beside him stirred, sighing gently in his sleep. David reached for the bedside lamp and switched it off. Although Rowen was a light sleeper, he said he didn't mind leaving a light on if that was what David preferred. One day David would bring a smaller lamp, something a bit dimmer, like the one Qubine made for him. But for now he could handle the darkness; he could still see Rowen's sleeping face.

He felt guilty thinking about Qubine when Rowen was right here, even though the thoughts were nothing romantic at all.

Sneaking a hand outside the blanket, he brushed the hair that had fallen into Rowen's eyes. There were strands of grey mixed with the black, more likely because of stress than age. He had noticed the same with Qubine too, but it was less obvious because Qubine's hair was dirty blonde rather than black. They worked so hard, but for what? Theirs was a world that could not be saved.

"Can't sleep?"

David's hand paused, then continued its task. "You're a sneaky one."

"Something is troubling you, even more so than usual."

"Usual?"

"We all have burdens. You bear yours well but it's still not invisible."

David chuckled dryly. This was why Rowen was a leader: nothing escaped him. "Let's just say my life was a wreck right up until I came to Chandelier."

"If you don't want to talk about it, then I don't want to know."

"Thank you." As for Rowen's burdens, David suspected there wasn't much that he, and everybody in Basel, didn't already know. At least David didn't have to live his life in the public eye. "Rowen... I think Qubine's found out about us."

Rowen opened his eyes. "Is that what's troubling you right now?"

"One of the things. But it doesn't seem like he's told anyone."

"I've told you before, I'm not ashamed of you. My stance is only to shield you from the spotlight. You are free to talk about this with anyone if you wish."

"But I don't want the attention either." David smiled. "And I certainly don't want to give my brother a heart attack." On top of that, their age gap was something that wouldn't go down well with a lot of people. Rowen's reputation as a religious and political leader could be seriously damaged if the world decided David was a toy boy. Rowen could not be unaware of that.

"If they are your friends, they will keep it secret for you."

"I know..."

"Is this because it's Qubine?"

David could pretend, but he suspected the way he froze had just given him away. How did Rowen find out, and for how long had he kept this to himself? Damn, he and Qubine were so much alike.

"This is not fair."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"I am."

"Rowen..."

"Your caveat was there from the beginning. I know very well how it feels to love someone but can't be with them. All this means is that I haven't managed to release you from that."

The hand in Rowen's hair slid down onto the cheek, the neck, to rest on the chest.

"I don't know what I can say or do that wouldn't just sound like a lie, but here is where I want to be."

David could feel the rise and fall of Rowen's chest, slow and steady.

"I believe you."

"I have trust issues because of things that'd happened before. But you never make me even the slightest bit nervous, whatever you do to me." When Rowen's frown deepened, David realised what his words must sound like. "It wasn't what you're thinking. It's... well, I guess the impact was similar."

Rowen digested that. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to."

"I want you to know that when you hold me down, I feel secure and wanted. Whereas if it was anyone else, I might have put a gun in their mouth instead," said David. "But about him... it just takes time for me to change an old habit. And it's really something else about him I heard that's bothering me and all his friends."

After a pause, Rowen pushed himself up a little. "I'll see if I can help. But before that, do you want to try being on top?"

"What?"

"If it's something you'd be interested in trying."

"It's not my thing usually but..."

David's gaze swept over Rowen's body, broad-shouldered, tall, experienced. Being on top hardly meant being in control and dominant, but he knew exactly what Rowen was offering. What would it be like to pin him down and feel him submit? To be inside him? His own body was already responding to the idea. Yes, he'd like to know.

He shuffled closer, nudged Rowen onto his back and kissed him.

 

"I wasn't sure if you want to hear from me, but just in case you do, I don't want you to think I'm ignoring you."

"What? Man, are you overthinking again?" A pause. "Ah, bugger. I said you could call me but I wasn't home. Sorry, I'm crap!"

Jean Paulet was right. Relief washed over David. "Don't worry about it. Even I know I'm oversensitive."

Rush laughed at him. "Hey, did you talk to Rhagoh?"

"Hmm?"

"He called me and said we should have a date and see how it goes... you talked him into it, right?"

"I wouldn't put it like that. I just told him exactly what I think about you, it's still his decision. So how did it go?"

"Well, we have a second date in about an hour."

It was so easy to imagine Rush's face right now, hearing the grin in that voice.

"An hour? I better get off the phone so you can get ready then!"

"I don't need that long. Geez, I'm not like you!

"What are you talking about? My man likes me naked and dishevelled."

"Yeah yeah, you don't need to get ready cos you're always ready."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Anyway, good luck. Hope it goes well."

"Thanks. Later!"

 

"Thanks, dad."

The mug of tea passed from one hand to another. David tested the temperature, then held it against himself for warmth. His eyes darting to the side, he saw Vashyron had a certain look on his face. "Hmm?"

Cradling his own mug of coffee, Vashyron leaned back against the handrail. "Come on, you're never just on the roof."

David sipped his tea. For someone who didn't drink the stuff, Vashyron was surprisingly good at making it. "You make it sound like your front porch is my designated angst location."

"You've said it, not me." Vashyron chuckled. "What's going on?"

It took David a while to think of a way of outlining the situation. "There's this friend of mine..."

"Your friend, huh."

"It's really about a friend." David shot Vashyron a look. "I think he might be getting into something dangerous. I could be overreacting, but there's no way for me to find out. I've asked a lot of well-connected people I know, but it's all just blank. Apparently nothing's going on — nothing anyone can tell me anyway."

Even Rowen said he couldn't find out anything about it. It was happening right there, at Aetersyl. How was it possible that the top man of Basel couldn't find out what people were doing in his facility?

Vashyron nodded to show that he was following. "What makes you think it's something dangerous?"

"Because..."

Because what? That it was probably taking place at Aetersyl, though David could not be completely sure? Because of the black hole of information? Because...

"Are all these people not able to tell you anything, or are they choosing not to? Is there a chance that they're actually doing something for you? Cos none of your friends strikes me as evil or even just shady," Vashyron said. "Strangely optimistic coming from me, I know."

Because he...

"Sorry, I need to—" The first thing that came to David's mind was to look for Rush. Rush would judge him, tell him where he had gone wrong and how to fix it.

But Rush wasn't home tonight. And it was well past time that David stopped unloading onto him; Rush had his own life to live, and this wasn't something he could fix anyway.

"Are you all right?"

"I... have some thinking to do. Thanks for the tea."

Back in his room, David put the mug down next to the sculpture Qubine gave him for his birthday last year.

Jean Paulet was worried that Qubine would work too hard and run himself to the ground, but that wasn't David's concern. David was only worried about himself.

He thought he loved Qubine. It turned out he did not even trust him.


	39. The Better Man

[AR1141, winter/spring]

"Are you seeing David? Paris's brother David?"

"What?"

"I've known you for twenty years, Rowen. I can tell just by looking at your eyes. I can't believe you're doing this. He's a child! Have you thought about what'd happen to you if this gets out? You'll lose everything!"

"Veronique, stop."

"You remember the manner in which he left Chandelier a few years ago. Has it ever crossed your mind that this is a honey trap?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"He has a grudge against you because of the cardinalship! He wants to bring you down and take your money!"

"Enough! You've crossed the line!"

"Rowen—"

"He came to me the very first year he was in Chandelier and told me he did not want to be a cardinal and nothing I said could change his mind. When he was forced to move down again he never even tried to ask me for help, and did what was best for his brother's future. He is only a few years your junior, not a child, and he has kept our relationship secret when I never tried to stop him from telling anyone. He's so proud he wouldn't even let me pay for his coffee. Look at this house. Look at my accounts; you are the one who makes them public for me. If he's after money there are many other people far wealthier to go after."

"Rowen..."

"There is nothing material and no power that I can give him. All I have to offer is me, who never has any time for him, and never promised him any recognition or security. Not once has he ever complained. Not even once. How dare you insult him that way!"

Silence.

"I... I see. He's that great, then. Beautiful and pure, just like the prelate. That's why I'll never be good enough for you, am I right?"

"Leave, Veronique. This is a conversation we don't want to have."

"All these years, and you've never even looked at me. Am I unworthy even of your eyes?"

"Go. Now."

Jealousy could turn even the most pleasant people ugly, David thought.

The bedroom door opened. Rowen stepped in, shut it behind him and leaned against it, his head bowed.

"I'm sorry about that."

Unlike many of the Cardinals, Rowen lived in a modest house which was relatively spacious for one man, but still small enough that a conversation in the living room could be heard from the bedroom.

Sitting on the windowsill by the open window, David looked up from the book he had not really been reading. "Hmm? What was that?"

"David, you have every right to be angry."

"About what?"

"You don't need to do that."

"I'm not doing anything." David put the book down. "But I do want to go to bed."

He went over to Rowen, grasped his hand and led him to bed. Rowen still wore his ring, a symbol of his oath to and his love for the prelate, but David paid little attention to it. He didn't think it could even come off after being on a finger for so many years. It was a part of Rowen now, and he was under enough pressure he didn't need any more from his own partner.

Under the covers, David kissed Rowen's face and neck until Rowen started the smile, before letting him go.

He was not beautiful nor pure. He cared only about himself and didn't even trust the man he loved. He gave only because he knew he would receive in return. His mere existence could destroy Rowen's life.

That was him. That was David. And David hated himself.

 

"I'm going to be quite busy this week, but I'll try my best to see you if I can."

"Okay," said Rowen on the phone. "This isn't about Veronique, is it?"

"What about her?"

A sigh.

"I need to go now, let's talk later."

"Okay. Take care."

Coming from the kitchen with a glass of water, Roeas put a hand on the back of the sofa David was sitting on, and arched an eyebrow at him. "You want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Oh, don't give me that."

"The answer is 'no', then. But thank you." Everybody wanted David to talk about his feelings these days. He was grateful that they cared, but he really wasn't in the mood.

"Your choice." Moving away, she put her water down and shrugged a coat on. "Time for my shift. Want me to give him a big kiss for you?"

"I'd love to see that, but your husband might not like it," said David. "Actually, Roeas?"

"What?"

"If you see anything odd about him... could you let me know?"

"Define 'odd'."

"Maybe if he's... annoyed, or uncomfortable, I guess. You'll probably know and see it better than I can."

"Hmm. Will see what I can do."

 

He checked the bottom left corner of the drinks cabinet. Zephyr's money was still there. Supposedly he saw no reason to move it for now.

David stuffed the prize money he'd won from the arena today down there, behind bottles of gin, triple sec and tequila. Then a thought struck him and he sat down on the floor, opened one of the bottles and took a sniff.

A shudder ran down his spine.

Before everything happened, back when he was just a regular teenager, he had no particular feelings about alcohol. He didn't love or hate it, and had no money for it anyway, until he learned how to get free drinks by flirting with the right bartender at Le Chit-Chat Noir at Level 7. He did get drunk a few times, but that was no different from how other young people spent their time.

Now that Sullivan had messed him up and he couldn't drink anymore, suddenly alcohol seemed so much more attractive. But he couldn't even have the option to forget for a little while before trying to pick up the pieces and forcing himself to be okay. Because being not okay was also not an option for someone like him.

He put the drink away and looked up at Zephyr, who had come in at some point and was staring at him from the other end of the room.

"I'm going to call Rush."

David got up from the floor. "It just smells nice. You saw me, I didn't want to drink any."

"Right." Zephyr pulled a face of complete distrust. "That look on your face? I've seen it in the mirror before."

"I can deal with things myself. Rush needs a break from me."

Zephyr held David's eyes for a few long moments before relenting. "Where've you been anyway?"

"The arena."

They went back to their side of the house.

"You could've gone to Royotia with Leanne, she likes to have people to chit chat with on the job."

"But she'd force me to take half of the day's pay and I'd rather not do that. I checked the guild board and there wasn't anything I could do." All the good jobs involved killing people. David would rather not chance it; Charlotte was the type who would check the guild records to see exactly what jobs he'd accepted. "I needed to make sure nobody overtakes me in the rankings at the arena anyway, and stretch some muscles."

"Know that feeling."

"If we could have a proper fight, just you and me, that'd be perfect."

"It'd be bloody epic!"

"One day, when we don't need our sanity anymore."

"Roeas said at some point I'm going to be widowed and when that happens, I should date you."

"How... generous of her."

"To be honest, when everyone's dead and gone, I'd rather have a real good fight with you."

"Before or after the date?"

Zephyr snorted.

"When everyone's dead and gone," David mused out loud. "I suppose we are the ones who are going to keep existing, perhaps not forever, but for a long time at least. When that time comes I think I'd like to go outside."

"Count me in. After the fight."

That brought another issue to David's mind. "If we can't be killed, what's the point of our pact?"

Zephyr sighed as if he was talking to a child. "Well, it fucking hurts and the pain doesn't stop cos you don't get to die. And it messes your head up."

David would have to take Zephyr's word on that one; he hadn't had bullets put through the roof of his mouth and out the top of his head. And really, there must be ways to get around Zenith if they really wanted to.

Pulling his lips back into a snarl, David flattened his palm, fingers together, and did a chopping action against his neck. "Do you think this would do it?" he asked in a loud whisper.

Zephyr replied with the same tone. "Probably. But I'm not helping you."

"Spoilsport."

"Oh really." Zephyr rolled his eyes and stopped whispering. "What's this all about anyway, I thought you're doing pretty well."

"I am." It wasn't just David. Everyone was doing pretty well. He could not think of one person in his circle of friends who was not in a happy situation right now. Qubine was an oddity, but he had always been and it wouldn't do Zephyr any good listening to David's unfounded panic on that particular issue.

As for the things Veronique said, hopefully by staying away for a few days David could give Rowen the room to think them all through. He might mistake David's absence for a guilty conscience but that was the lesser of the two evils. A handful of people now knew about them and having one of them tell Rowen this could ruin him was a reality check.

"Alright-y then."

"My problems aren't things I can solve, unfortunately. I'm just waiting to see what happens. In the worst case scenario, I'll be single again."

"And all of Basel's men rejoice!"

David guffawed.

"You're very fun when you're not sulking."

"I've always been fun! I am the party!"

"Of course, of course."

 

At his brother's manor, David managed to get hold of Rush just before he went off work. Rush had changed into something that wasn't as plain as his usual clothes, so he was probably going out rather than going home.

"Hey! You all right?"

David wasn't, but this wasn't the time or place to talk about his problems. Besides, he really did think Rush needed a break. So he nodded, and gave Rush a once-over.

"Going out?" he asked, and saw his friend smile. "I suppose everything's gone well then?"

The smile widened into a grin. "She's really exciting and he's the sweetest guy I've ever met. They're amazing."

This didn't come as a surprise at all. David stepped a little closer and leaned forward, bringing his mouth near Rush's ear. "Have you slept with them yet?"

"What?"

"Come on, I want to know. Sounds like a logistical challenge."

"Man!" Rush shot David a look. "No we haven't. We agreed they'll make the move when they're ready."

This was going to be interesting and David looked forward to hearing about it in the future. But for now he better let Rush go.

"Well run along then. Don't be late... hold on," said David, frowning. He pushed the sleeves of Rush's jacket up to the elbow. "Much better. You've got nice arms, so show them off."

Rush chuckled. "Is this satisfactory? May I go now?"

"Yes. Class dismissed."

After that, he talked about Royotia with Paris and his mother over a pleasant dinner. The town was a place of common interest since it became part of Paris's diocese two years ago, and David would say he knew the area well since he went there often and worked with many of the locals. His impression of the town seemed to match up with Paris's, which was a pretty good indication that his brother really understood the people.

Rowen had mentioned a few times before that Paris did a good job, but David could never be absolutely sure if he said it just to make him happy. This just proved again that Rowen didn't do such things as "ulterior motives".

Immediately after dinner, Paris said they had to talk, so they went to his bedroom.

"What is it?" David wondered if his troubles were that obvious. He did come hoping that he could talk to Paris in private, not about Rowen or Qubine, but the realisations he had about himself, and confess to someone about it before he went mad.

"I need your help," said Paris, excited. "Do you have the key to Charlotte's cafe?"

Not what David was expecting. "I do. Why?"

Paris went over to his safe, the same one that once stored the documents detailing the experiments performed on David and other orphans at Cranktown. After a bit of fiddling, he retrieved a little box from it. David could tell what it was even before Paris showed him the engagement ring inside.

Without a second thought, David took the key off his keyring and pressed it in his brother's hand. He was glad he hadn't started talking about his own things, because this was far more important and infinitely more exciting.

"When and how are you going to do it? Tell me everything!"

 

Weddings were the best things in life, according to Jean Paulet. Two people exchanging vows of love, entering into holy matrimony with their closest and dearest present as witnesses. What could possibly be better than that?

"Oh God above! I'm unworthy of knowing such happiness!" exclaimed Jean Paulet, doing spontaneous spins on his feet. "Oh David! Your brother is marrying my sister! This means we're going to be brothers!"

"God help me," was David's response, making Emmy laugh into her hand. "How do you cope with this everyday?"

Emmy shrugged. "It all comes with the package. Anyway, I'm going to talk to Charlotte, you boys behave yourselves, okay?"

"Don't leave me alone with him!" David reached for Emmy, only to have her laugh at him and wave him off.

When Jean Paulet hadn't seemed to calm down after another few moments, David decided to eat the other neglected piece of cake as well. That perpetual state of excitement was so amusing to see that he didn't want to make his friend stop. But he probably should.

"It's going to take months for them to prepare. Are you going to keep spinning until then?"

Finally Jean Paulet returned to the table. "Even if I'm not on my feet, my heart will always be dancing!" He looked at his plate, and gasped. "You ate my cake!"

David smiled, unrepentant.

"Fine, I love you enough to let you have my cake," said Jean Paulet, "especially if it makes you smile."

David made a show of scraping the last bits of cream from the plate.

"What's going on, mon ami?"

Finishing the very lasts of the cake, David contemplated on what to say. He hadn't be able to talk about this to anyone and thought it was better that way. But this man in front of him was one of his oldest, dearest friends.

He took a deep breath. No, he couldn't do this now. He was already too self-important, too selfish. To unload his problems onto Jean Paulet would only make them worse.

"I'm waiting," Jean Paulet sung gently. "O, David, doth thou not trust me?"

David smiled despite himself. "That's not the issue."

"Then please talk to me. I don't want you to bottle it up." Jean Paulet sat closer. "In fact, I'm not giving you any choice on this matter. You must talk to me."

It was a demand, one David was grateful for. In a small voice he told his friend the things he had learned about himself: he wasn't the person he thought he was or wanted to be, but someone who only cared about himself, who only helped others so that he might get something in return, be it a favour, praise, or love. He was selfish and put himself before others. He didn't trust people, always thinking that he was only being humoured, and nothing was the same as soon as his back was turned.

When he was done, and looked up from the tablecloth, he saw tears in Jean Paulet's eyes. He forced a smile.

"I told you sharing doesn't make it any better."

"Oh, mon ami, it's not like that at all." A handkerchief appeared from a pocket, the corner of which was used to dab Jean Paulet's eyes. "I'm just moved that you've finally decided you can talk to me."

The corner of David's smile quivered. "Now that's just emotional blackmail."

"Blackmail? Hardly," said Jean Paulet. "David... is everything all right between you and your other half?"

A fair enough question. "There is something... but it's an entirely separate issue."

Jean Paulet shifted a little, sat up better, and moved the plates and cups away so that the table between them was clear.

"The things you said are not true, mon ami. When your back is turned, the only thing that changes is I admire your backside rather than your face."

"We're going to be brothers soon, remember."

"Very well, mon frère. But my point still stands: I don't think of you like that, and I'm sure—"

It was only at this point David realised how accusational his words must have sounded. "I don't mean you specifically. Just people in general."

"All of this, it's about how you feel about yourself, non? We all worry about what other people think about us, that's not to do with trust, but our self worth. I'm completely the same! We all do things in hope of getting something in return, because since young we're told that if we want something, we work for it. Putting oneself before the others is a survival instinct. And as we grow older, these feelings take root and spread towards other areas of life, making us petty beings. We want, and want, and want. I try to rise above that, to be only a giver. If I could do that, I would be closer to God."

And this was why Jean Paulet was a great Cardinal, David thought. After a few seconds of stunned silence, David gestured at their plates. "Was that why you let me have your cake?"

"Non, that was because you're my brother, and I'm supposed to cut back on sweets anyway. If you were just anyone, I would not have been happy, which is why I am also not the person I want to be, and still so far away from God." Jean Paulet looked a little remorseful. "But what I hope you can understand is that you're not alone. You want to be loved, just like anyone. But mon frère, you always think you're not good enough, that's why you try so hard. Give yourself a break!"

Held by Jean Paulet's earnest stare, David didn't know what to say.

Then Jean Paulet not only held him with his gaze, but also by his hands. "You don't 'trust' people because you think there is no reason for them to care about you. You are so wrong. If only you could see inside my head, you'll know how much you mean to me and how much I treasure the time we spend together. Your brother Paris, your friends, every life you touch — we're grateful that you're in our lives. So start believing in yourself, then you will believe in people too."

David dipped his head. Was that right? He couldn't believe in Qubine because he didn't even believe in himself?

"You're talking like I'm on the brink of suicide or something."

"Mon dieu, of course not!" Hands letting go, Jean Paulet retrieved their cups and poured some fresh tea. Then he paused, his voice softening. "But, heaven forbid, if you ever feel like you have nowhere to turn, remember my doors are always open for you."

"Likewise, JP."

"Shall we have more cake? I'm sure there is more in the kitchen."

"Good idea."

Jean Paulet called one of his servants to go to the kitchen.

"JP, you say that everyone is the same, but you work with a lot of religious people. Do you really not know anyone at all who gives and doesn't care about receiving?"

Was this where religion should come in, if it should have any place in life at all?

The hand that lifted his tea cup paused mid-air. Jean Paulet gave the question some serious thought. "I don't know most of the clergymen well enough to judge, but there is one person I can think of." He sipped his tea. "Our friend Qubine."

When David thought about it, this was not a surprise. And it was so, so true.

"That godless man is a better person than I can ever be!" said Jean Paulet, sighing.

"It may be just as well that he turned me down back then," David said. "I'm not good enough for him."

Jean Paulet frowned. "I just told you to stop thinking you're not good enough!"

"Fine. He's too close to god for me." David picked up his tea as well. "You can't argue with that."

Jean Paulet really couldn't. "I bet he's busy saving the world right now. Oh, how I miss him."

So did David. It was a strange feeling, a mix of annoyance, love and vestiges of distrust. He still loved Qubine and probably always would, but he also loved Rowen. One of them he never had, the other he was likely to lose.

The servant returned with cakes and pastries.

"We're just going to have to eat Qubine's share too."

"It'll be quite a task but we'll cope, somehow. Persevere."

"Oui!"


	40. Foolish

[AR1141, winter/spring]

Five days already felt far too long.

He was going to ring the bell at the side entrance after the guards waved him through the gates, but the cook was just going home for the night, so she let him in. Rowen didn't keep many staff, usually David only saw the one who cooked meals and another person who did the housekeeping and gardening. They addressed Rowen by name rather than title, and were comfortably informal with David.

He stepped through the kitchen and peeked into the living room. Roeas said Rowen was home, and that he'd been drinking the last few days. Not in an alarming amount, and the staff told her this wasn't unusual, but it just didn't sound like the Rowen David knew. Perhaps giving him space wasn't helping him.

Rowen was at the record player at the corner of the room, switching it off and putting the vinyl away. On the coffee table was half a bottle of whisky and an almost-empty glass. David walked in.

"And here I was, hoping I'd catch you dancing."

Rowen jumped a little. "David?"

The surprised smile he received told David he was welcomed and wanted here. He went over, put a hand behind Rowen's neck and leaned up for a kiss.

His mouth met just air as Rowen pulled away from him. He froze for a moment, his arm falling.

"I've been drinking," Rowen said, frowning deeper than usual. "If you'd told me you were coming..."

It took David a while to put it all together: Rowen liked his drinks. The fact that he had been drinking this week wasn't abnormal at all — he had been refraining from it because David was supposed to be allergic, which was why he wouldn't kiss him just now.

"Oh," David dipped his head, embarrassed by his own reaction just now. Rowen had been so considerate all this time and he hadn't even realised. "Well, I..."

Rowen narrowed his eyes. "You thought I was going to break up with you because of Veronique?"

"I don't..."

"Please don't avoid the issue, David. Or avoid me."

Holding back a sigh, David sat down. "I wasn't avoiding you. I thought you could make a choice that's more true to yourself if I wasn't around. You might not like what Cardinal Veronique said but she had some valid points."

Unlike David, Rowen chose to remain standing. "Do you not want to influence me? Am I not worth fighting for, even just a little bit?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What do you mean, then?"

David didn't know how to explain. Since his chat with Jean Paulet, he had tried to tell himself that he was worth it. He was worth Rowen and the contentment being with Rowen brought. But old habits weren't easy to change.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you don't look away from this reality check."

Rowen's eyes fell onto the bottle on the table. He reached for it, but instead of drinking, he went to put it away. "It matters to me. I don't understand why you didn't get angry." He put the bottle inside a cabinet and shut it firmly, making the whole thing shake. "How could you stand being insulted like that? Does nothing matter to you at all?"

"I was a bit upset. But what would getting mad achieve?"

"You can just decide to let it slide?"

"If you've spent your whole life trying to not ruffle anyone's feathers and blend in, then you learn to do that, yes."

Turning around, Rowen stared at David as if he had just heard something in a foreign tongue. "I don't understand. That is definitely not you."

They were talking too much. David was talking too much. "That's because you don't know how hard it was for me to survive," not only physically, but also to stay mentally intact, "and I prefer it that way. If I don't come across like that it means I'm doing a good job."

Rowen was at a loss for words.

David clutched his hands together. "Have you thought about what would happen if this became public, Rowen? I have. And I know what it's like to lose everything. A miracle happened for me, that's the only reason why I am here now, still alive, still sane. But do you believe in miracles? Would you count on them?"

"Miracles," Rowen muttered, going back to David. That word seemed to bear a special meaning to him. "I had once hoped for one, but I've learned to never depend on them."

He touched the ring on his finger briefly.

"I've also learned how precious some things are and how crazy it would be for me to let them go. I cannot spend the second half of my life living in regret as well."

David kept his silence. Rowen could be talking about anything, not necessarily him.

"At the start, you told me to lower my expectations. Is this still true?"

Not anymore. David shook his head. He could commit to this relationship; he wanted it to work. "If you don't want me to, I won't go anywhere."

"Then hear this: if it all goes wrong and I lose everything, it is not your fault. I've made an informed decision."

David buried his head in his lap. "This is crazy. You must be joking."

"This isn't the answer you were hoping for, then, even though you say that you would stay?" Rowen was incredulous. "Is it because you think people might dredge up your past when it comes to that?"

"My past is dead and buried." Taking a deep breath, David tried to force his brain to slow down. Was it okay to deprive Basel of its leader because of him? Would his friends still be so accepting if that happened? "This is more than about just me. I've done enough selfish things in my life already, this is too big for me to..."

Finally Rowen decided to sit down beside David. "How about we go on the offensive then, and make it public ourselves?"

David lifted his head slightly. What was Rowen saying? "You've definitely gone mad."

"Do you think so?"

Probably Rowen had a point. Going preemptive in a battle meant they got to declare how it would start. David lowered his head again, his forehead resting on his knees. "Please let me think about it," he said, then the realisation stuck. "Turns out I'm the one who needs to think it all through, not you. I'm sorry."

If he had doubts, it meant he should stop, right? Rowen said what he said only because he couldn't fully comprehend the concept of truly having nothing. But if this did work out, it would be—

A hand reached over and clutched his. "Have faith, David."

"Faith?" David muttered. "You're talking to me about faith?"

"Not in God. In people."

—it would be the best thing to happen to him since coming to Chandelier.

But it was that thing again. Jean Paulet told him that was what he needed too: faith. Belief. That was always the stumbling block.

"Well, I'll work on that. All I have right now is chocolate."

"What?"

"My left pocket," he said, and a moment later Rowen found the truffles he was referring to. "Roeas said you've been into your whisky. I heard dark chocolate goes really well with it."

Rowen snorted softly. "It's not very professional of her to disclose these things."

"I did threaten to seduce her husband."

"I see. She didn't have any choice then."

"Try them."

Rowen did, and drank what was left in his glass, staying quiet for a bit.

"It's good. Might go even better with the single malt. I'll try that next time."

"Do that whenever you want. Don't stop doing what you love because of me, I can't stand that."

Rowen's response was to rub the back of David's neck reassuringly.

They fell silent again.

"I'll go brush my teeth."

"I just need a few more minutes. Sorry."

"No need to apologise."

David's left side was suddenly cold when Rowen stood up.

"After you've brushed your teeth, I want you to fuck me so hard I won't be able to walk tomorrow."

He felt a kiss on the back of his neck.

"If you're prepared to not leave my bed tomorrow."

 

"Thank you. Sorry again for the inconvenience."

"It's not a problem."

Rowen opened the door and peeked into his bedroom. David was still asleep, the tea and biscuits on the bedside table untouched.

"I will take over tomorrow so that you can—"

"You have enough on your plate. To be frank, I'm more suited to this. Do your cardinal work."

"But even so..."

"Rowen, I want to be here."

Rowen rubbed his forehead heavily. "I know."

"I'll report if I find anything."

"But—"

The line was dead. Although he knew this wouldn't help, Rowen couldn't stop himself from staring at his wireless handset and frown. It had been a long time since anyone actually hung up on him, but this was Qubine, so he wasn't surprised in the slightest.

He went inside the room. The soft click of the door roused David, who gathered his brows, then opened his eyes, bleary. The first thing he did was push the cup of tea aside so that he could check the clock.

Then he was wide awake and out of bed, looking for his clothes. He glanced at Rowen briefly before picking up a jumper. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"There's no need to hurry. I'm working from home today."

"You can do that?"

"I have no essential appearances," Rowen put the handset down. "And it seems like nobody wants me at work anyway. They hung up on me."

This surprised David. "Your workplace sounds more casual than I imagined."

"This is the first time it happened."

"Maybe they think you should take it easy for a day."

With a smile David dropped the jumper exactly where he found it and went to sit down on the bed. The tea was still warm and he drank it in great, satisfying gulps. A smile tugged at the corners of Rowen's lips before he realised.

"Do you want another one?"

"Can I stay?"

"I thought that was the idea." Rowen picked up various bits of David's clothes and draped them at the foot of the bed. "Although you seem to be walking just fine."

"You need to try again then," said David. "Are you actually going to be working?"

"There are a few things I need to get done." But if David stayed looking like this all day, Rowen had a feeling it would be a challenge to get any work done at all. "And I think I'd be the one who wouldn't be able to walk first."

"That's what you get for being a cradle-snatcher." David grinned, scooting back onto the bed when Rowen stalked towards him, and laughed when he was tackled. Rowen kissed him and then reluctantly moved away.

"I need to work."

"I won't distract you until you're done."

"If you leave the bed, put some clothes on, otherwise I won't be able to concentrate."

"See, you aren't that old."

Rowen snorted, took one of the biscuits and left the room.

 

It was fortunate that David didn't have to go to work in Royotia today, but he shouldn't be making a habit of randomly taking the day off, especially with the future in mind.

Not that he was wasting time. Despite his warnings, Rowen was so much in his own world working from his dining table David didn't think he even realised there was another person in the room. Sat curled up on the sofa with the unused cardinal robe draped over him — because he could — he wrote some notes and worked out some numbers.

For someone in such a prestigious position, Rowen lived in a modest house. His accounts were public and David had glanced at them before out of curiosity. He wasn't a big spender, probably because he was so busy he had no time to spend money. But still, the house was nice and Rowen lived well.

If Rowen lost his position in Chandelier, it would be difficult for him to find work for quite a while. David wondered if he would be able to provide themselves with a similar standard of living somewhere on Level 4.

At the rate he was earning his rubies, it would involve very long hours and that would mean seeing Rowen very little, which seemed to defeat the point of everything. He had to try to charge more for what he did, or find a better paying job.

And how would Rowen react to not having a job?

David looked above the notepad on his knees. It seemed like Rowen was catching up with a large pile of neglected paperwork. David didn't think Rowen only did what he did because of a lack of choice; he enjoyed being productive, just like Qubine. And David could vividly remember how listless Qubine got when he took a week off.

Rowen would probably go mad if he had nothing to do.

As if he could somehow tell David was looking at him, Rowen pulled back from the table. "Coffee?"

"Sure."

A few minutes later, Rowen returned with two cups of instant, putting one down in front of David. He glanced at the notes.

"Working hard?"

"Hardly working." David put his notes aside. "Rowen, if you don't have to work, what'd you do?"

The answer came without a pause; Rowen didn't even need to think. "Build a house."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"All by yourself?"

"As much as possible."

Well, that took care of a few issues. They could rent somewhere small while Rowen indulged in what seemed to be a lifelong dream. David hadn't realised Rowen was that kind of a man. This was rather cute, though he had to admit this must be his bias speaking.

Funny, the whole idea of living with Rowen was starting to become very pleasing. Was he developing a nesting instinct?

Their conversation was broken off by the doorbell. Turning his head, Rowen glanced at the door before looking down on David again.

"I'm dressed," said David, pulling the coat off to prove it. "Should I go into your room?"

"No need." Rowen gestured for David to stay where he was, and went to answer the door. It was one of the guards, saying Cardinals Veronique and Barbarella were outside.

David was quite sure that last time Veronique suddenly paid a visit she was allowed to come straight in, so the procedures had obviously been changed. He got up, ready to go into the bedroom, but Rowen said he would meet them outside, and pulled on the coat David left behind.

David went and hid anyway, just in case.

Rowen returned minutes later. After making sure the coast was clear, David reemerged.

"Sorry about that."

David frowned to show his disapproval of the apology.

"What happened? Or should I not ask?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were much more relaxed a few minutes ago." And there were two cardinals visiting at the same time. But David wondered if this was official business and he really should not be asking.

Going back to the dining table where his work was carefully divided into small stacks, Rowen sat down, putting down an envelope that was in his hands. "Veronique just requested a transfer."

Now Barbarella's presence made sense. She was good friends with Veronique and probably came for moral support. "Transfer? To what?"

"To a different office. Anywhere except mine."

"Tell me you haven't accepted. She's your right hand," said David, although he wasn't sure if she was any good, seeing the amount of paperwork Rowen still had to get through.

"David," Rowen said, turning towards him, "even kindness has a limit."

David shook his head. "I don't want to cause anymore upheavals in your life."

A sigh. "This would also be better for her marriage."

Cardinal Veronique was married since a few years ago. Of course. How did David manage to forget that? Probably because back in college it was pretty much a public secret that Veronique had a crush on Rowen. Now it was almost impossible not to judge her.

"She is a great colleague and a dependable friend, but that is as far as my feelings for her extend. When she married I thought she'd found the place where her feelings belonged..."

"Rowen?"

"I just reminded myself of a friend who said something like that. He died without having ever found it." Rowen tipped his head back. His fringe fell to the side and he looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know where Veronique needs to go, but her place is not with me."

David edged a little closer. "It's difficult."

"I should reassign her. It's the professional thing to do. Still..."

"You are friends; don't just shove her anywhere."

"I'll consult Barbarella."

David hoped with every fibre of his being that he had never made Qubine feel this much pressure. Maybe friendship was only a delusion when one person had romantic feelings for the other.

"Perhaps I should have moved her to another office as soon as I realised. But she stood by me and believed I'd come to my senses even when I nearly made the worst decision in my life. I couldn't just..."

A little closer. Rowen couldn't have said something like that if he didn't want to talk about it. "What do you mean?"

Rowen didn't move. "Ten years ago, I saw an opportunity to... change the way we all live." He snorted. "I say 'opportunity'; it was a recipe for evil. It was to play god. The kind of disaster it could have wrought, when I finally saw it for what it really was... I still cannot believe that sort of idea had ever even crossed my mind."

He didn't need to check to know there were goosebumps on his arms. David made himself walk over to Rowen and stand behind his chair. Surely he was being just oversensitive.

"Somehow, that doesn't sound like you at all," he said, putting a hand on the back of Rowen's chair, fingers resting on his shoulder. "Play god?"

"It sounds alien even to me." Rowen bowed his head. "You're close friends with Qubine and I know he isn't one to observe gagging orders. So how much do you know about Basel?"

David chuckled. "Sounds like you don't trust him."

"I trust that he picks only trustworthy people to talk to."

"Hmm, fine," said David. "I know that Basel was a last resort. Humans used to live in the land outside, but for one reason or another — probably heavy pollution — Basel was built and people started living here, where the environment was controlled to at least survivable standards."

"Survivable. Well put."

"Nobody can really call Level 12 'livable', right?"

"Hn. And how much do you know what took place in Lucia in 1131?"

David knew exactly what Rowen was talking about, and had to force himself to stay where he was rather than back away. At this point, he must feign ignorance. "The revolt? How is that related?"

"A revolt was what I told the press." Rowen lowered his head. "An invasion was what it really was, by humans from the outside."

"People can live out there?"

"Through mutations or evolution, I guess. I'm no scientist. I never personally encountered them, and we didn't capture any." Rowen reached for his coffee. "At the time I thought... they must have left something behind in Lucia. Even... even if it's only a bit of blood, then we can find out more about them. If they can survive the outside world and wipe out our army... then that's a strength we need."

David thought he was going to be sick. Unconsciously he dropped his voice. "That is a dangerous thought."

After a few big gulps, Rowen put his coffee down. "You can see that right away, and that's what Veronique said to me as well. To this day I still don't know why I ever thought like that... actually I do know. Basel is rapidly running out of resources. If we couldn't go beyond its bounds to look for more, we would soon be in deep trouble."

"I see..."

"But if we cannot even look after our own world here, what right do we have to go out and plunder the land we had already ruined once? We would just make the same mistakes all over again. Basel is where we must learn to respect and conserve what we have... I just got quite preachy here. I apologise."

"It's fine, I agree with you."

"And the things that could go wrong with those sorts of experiments." Rowen sighed. "I shouldn't be saying any of this. I must look like a crazy and ignorant fool to you now."

Unable to stop himself, David put his other hand on Rowen's shoulder as well. What if it was all Rowen's doing? The man he loved was the one who caused all his suffering? He could easily overpower Rowen like this, squeeze his neck until it broke; David wouldn't even need to wait for him to suffocate. But no, he couldn't make himself hurt Rowen no matter what.

"It depends. How far did you get with that idea?"

"I told Veronique. You are the second person to hear about it."

"And she never told anyone?"

"I wouldn't think so."

It wasn't Rowen. He didn't give Sullivan any ideas. Sullivan had started his illicit experiments some twenty years prior — Leanne had mentioned a few things to David — and he didn't let Rowen know that he did capture someone during the Lucia Incident, on whom he based his later experiments. The scientist went and did the things Rowen only dared to imagine.

"Then the only judgement you're getting from me is that you were desperate to find a solution, but you realised the method was wrong and you didn't go through with it. Case closed." Bending down, David kissed the top of Rowen's hair, relief flooding through him. He honestly didn't know what he would have done if this had turned out the other way. He would have to go back to Jean Paulet and tell him that he was sorry, but he would never be able to believe in anyone ever again.

Rowen tilted his head back so that their eyes could meet. "I don't know if you're enlightened or just foolish."

"I may be young but I've seen a lot of crazy things." David smirked. "I'm just glad you walked away from it."

Rowen leaned back into the embrace when David bent down, arms sliding over his chest.

David would very much like to be with this man for the rest of his life.

"David, your heart is beating very fast."

"Don't worry about it."


	41. Gae Bolg

[AR1141, winter/spring]

Monitoring was a labour-intensive task, but it didn't always involve many people. Cardinal Rowen frequently visited Aetersyl but rarely stayed, as he couldn't make a contribution any more significant than the others on the team and couldn't afford the time to do so in any case. Since his call earlier in the day asking to swap shifts, Qubine had taken the liberty to write him out of the schedule entirely . There were other things Rowen could do with his time and even if he had any time free, Qubine would rather he spent it with David.

Qubine didn't stay with the machines every minute of the day, sometimes taking walks to rest his eyes and to keep himself from going stiff in the chair. He'd even jogged around the grounds of the facility. The rest of the team found it amusing at first, but one by one they decided it was a good idea and followed suit.

Today, during one of his walks inside the expansive building, Qubine came across a laboratory bearing a door plaque that matched the information on a report he once read. One of the very rooms where David was used as a test subject. There were people working in there now, oblivious to the atrocities that once took place.

"Are you feeling better?"

Qubine accepted the proffered tea. "Pardon?"

Juris adjusted his glasses. "You didn't look too good earlier, as if the walk had taken it out of you. Maybe you should go home and—"

Even before Juris finished his sentence, the third and last team member in the room was laughing. "Come on, you know he'll never listen."

"Children these days," said Juris with a sigh, shaking his head. "Spend their youth playing with machines when they should be enjoying the great outdoors."

By now Qubine had got used to Juris's tendency to emphasise just how old he was, and knew it was easier to just play along. "Aren't you the one who should be taking extra care of his health?"

"Ha, I won't die so easily. Got my wife and daughter to think about." The mature scientist turned to the third person in the room. "How about you?"

"I'd die faster being outdoors," said the much younger team member, chuckling. "The upside of being born frail. And no family here, but I'm hoping to start one eventually. It's enough motivation for me to keep working."

Qubine cringed on the inside when the two then turned towards him, expectant. On the outside, he looked unperturbed, almost bored, choosing to not provide any answer to the unvoiced question.

"No picture of a sweetheart in your wallet?" asked Juris, and looked genuinely surprised when Qubine arched an eyebrow at him.

"Haha, he's as bad as Cardinal Rowen."

Right where it hurt. "I wouldn't insult poor Rowen like that," said Qubine, making the others laugh. These people were no fools; they could probably see he had something to fight for, but even Qubine himself could hardly tell what it was anymore. Or maybe he was only avoiding thinking about it. He certainly was not going to make the mistake of having a photograph of his motivation in his wallet.

Their attention switched focus when one of the machines near Juris made a noise. He pressed a button for a printout, and they huddled around it to read the output.

The system had detected something. It was similar to what happened over Christmas, but a smaller reading.

Juris scratched his head. "Shall we work on this for a bit before deciding if we need to make everyone else worry?"

Qubine nodded, and they got to work.

 

It had been a week since that conversation and David still hadn't given Rowen a solid answer, but Rowen had a good feeling about it. Optimism wasn't something he was used to — his job demanded a lot of preparing for the worst. This had been the case even during Freida's time and it had gradually become worse until recent years. But these days, when Rowen looked to the future he saw a glimmer of hope.

He had a lot to thank Qubine for. His work was helping to provide for Basel's future and had opened doors for other bright minds to do the same. It felt like finally the tides were beginning to turn.

He also had to thank Qubine for rejecting David. Had he not done that, he would never be able to feel this incredible happiness just seeing David smile at him as he came inside the house. There was a gleam in David's eyes that told Rowen something was up, and the news was good.

"So I realise I never gave you a reply about the future," said David as he toed off his boots. He clearly didn't want to wait to say whatever he had to say. "Nice as it would be to just say let's go for it, I'm more practical than I am romantic. There were a few things I wanted to check first."

"Yes?"

"I was with Jean Paulet earlier," David straightened himself, "talking to him about us."

"What did he say?"

"He gives us his blessings, and will show public support if that's needed." The smile widened. "I haven't talked to Paris yet, but I'm sure he'll be the same after the initial shock. And Pater too."

Watching that smile turn into a grin, Rowen felt like he was the luckiest person in the world, clichéd as it was. He pulled David into an embrace.

"And I'm quite sure Garigliano would also support us after he finishes laughing in my face."

"Preparation is half the battle," said David against Rowen's chest. "If that's not enough to help you keep your job though, I hope you're ready to move down to Level 4 and be my house builder."

Yes, he was the luckiest person in the world. "Gladly."

"How about Basel?"

"There are many plans in place just in case I am killed or otherwise become incapable of doing my job."

"I see. Well, things will be quite tight for some time." David pulled back so that their eyes could meet. "I hope you don't mind toughing it out with me for a few years."

Since losing Freida when he was still a naive, young thing. Rowen had never had his heart stolen so completely until now. He would be a fool to let go. A few years? He would be content even if he had to do that for a lifetime.

He would have said that out loud but the mention of a lifetime together was too suggestive even though they were talking about their future together right now. Some say that the older you got, the more clearly you knew what you wanted; even though they had only been together for a few months, Rowen was sure about David's place in his life. Still, it was far too soon to say anything like that. David was young, faithless. Ever since childhood he had been let down by the system, society and even his family who promised him a new life, only to banish him again. If Rowen was to ask for his hand now, David might just laugh it off or walk away.

It suddenly occurred to Rowen he still had to give David a response. "There are plenty of things I can say but you would just cringe from the cheesiness, so I shall put it simply: toughing it out is not a problem at all."

The arms around Rowen moved down, and hands found each other. David tipped his head. "But I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I do the cheesy thing now and take you to bed..."

"I can be persuaded."

 

Something cold and hard dug into David's back when he rolled off Rowen, sweaty and spent. This wasn't what he had in mind originally, but when he was pumping Rowen's cock and Rowen gasped words like "make love to me, please," how could David say no? As a bottom, Rowen was a slow burner, but when he did climax... well, thank god for refractory periods, David thought. He must never think about that in public.

Reaching under, he pulled out the thing that was hurting him, the tube of lubricant. Which reminded him that when he reached for this, he caught a glimpse of something else that sparked his interest.

He rolled towards the bedside table, opened the drawer and put the gel back. Instead of tugging the drawer out a bit further, he peeked inside and saw the butts of two guns, one of which looked totally unfamiliar. The gun nerd in him decided he had to know more.

"Rowen? Mind if I take a look?"

Rowen lifted his head just enough to see what David was pointing at. "Feel free."

Normally the first thing David did when he got hold of a weapon was to check if it was loaded and if the safety was on, but as soon as this one emerged from the drawer, all he could do was gape at it. It took him a whole minute to find his words.

"Don't you usually use a Z-40? What's this one for?"

This was the gun David had drawn a plan of at his home, on the wall outside of what was now Vashyron's room. His design, which he'd nicknamed the Gae Bolg. But he had never built it. How could it possibly exist as a real weapon?

"It's a measure against invaders from the outside. Lucia was destroyed because our firepower wasn't strong enough to kill them."

"So this is a... super weapon."

Rowen stifled a yawn. "So to speak. There is a lot of science behind it and the bullets, it's not something I can explain but I've been assured this can kill any invader if needs be."

All David could think about was: please don't let this be true. "I guess a scientist must have created this then."

"The best in Basel. It's Qubine's work."

 

The last time Rush saw David this distressed, it was because of Rhagoh and something David never fully explained in the end, something about dropping dead any moment. He recalled David standing at his door muttering gibberish, and the sight of that alone made him want to punch whoever had caused it. It was a good thing he didn't because that person turned out to be Kate.

But this time, Rush didn't wait before pulling David inside, telling him to sit down, and calm down. He shooed Irina back to her own place next door, ignoring her offers to help, and didn't waste time making tea. Instead he picked up his own mug, half full but still hot, and put it in David's hands.

"Right. Shoot."

David took a deep breath first. "Do you remember that gun I drew on the roof of my house?"

Rush couldn't begin to guess where this could be going. He nodded. "The 'gay bolt'?"

"And do you remember where the reports say the original material they used to experiment on me came from?"

Right, he really couldn't guess what this was about. But at least he knew what David was referring to; he normally wouldn't be able to remember something he'd read a decade ago, but this was something you just didn't forget. "People from outside. When they attacked Lucia."

"A gun's been made, based on my design, specifically to kill the people from outside."

Holy moly.

"Qubine built it. He had lots of them manufactured. Rowen has one in his house and the army has them too." David slammed the mug down and buried his face in his hands. "Shit!"

Rush brushed aside the things on the coffee table and sat on it so that he could be in front of his friend. "Hold on. It should be okay? It's to protect Basel!"

David looked up from his hands to Rush, eyes wide as if he couldn't believe what he just heard. "The military didn't stand a chance in Lucia because our weapons couldn't kill those people. These guns Qubine built are specifically made for that purpose! Can't you see what that means?"

Rush could, but he didn't dare to say a word. Anything he said now would either betray Qubine or David.

"He investigated on Lucia. He'd done experiments to understand the biology. He must have got hold of that research!"

Which meant Qubine must know about David's past.

Rush had no clue what he could do but he must try to salvage the situation somehow. "Dave," he grasped David's shoulders, shaking them. "Listen for a minute. It doesn't mean he knows. It could be fresh research that he's done!"

"Do you seriously believe that? _His mother worked on me!_ "

"Okay so maybe he knows. So? He hasn't done anything to you! He used your design probably because he thinks you should be a part of this too, right, because if those people didn't come to Basel then nothing would've happened to you. Or maybe that's the only gun plan he's ever seen and he just ran with it!"

"He'd known for a long time." It was as if David had not heard a word Rush said. "This was his personal project, the one he'd been working on since we were at college. All these years he'd carried on his mother's work and monitored me. I thought he was a friend. I'm an idiot!"

This could not possibly be further from the truth but Rush didn't know how he could convince David. "Dave. Stop. You're being paranoid. Qubine isn't like that."

After a moment of silence, David bowed his head.

"So you think all of this is just conjecture."

"I think there's no way any of that's true."

Silence again. David seemed to have calm down, so Rush's hands let go.

"Rush?"

"Yeah?"

"How much is he paying you?"

"What?"

"Whenever I did something stupid or wrong, you'd tell me off. But even then you were always on my side. You always said things like 'but it's their fault anyway' or 'I'll knock some sense into them'." David stood up and moved away. When he looked at Rush with reddened eyes, it was as if he was seeing Rush for the first time and he was trying to assess this stranger. "Except this time. Not once did you consider things from my angle; you were too busy protecting him."

Oh, crap.

"Dave I—"

"Two of you. I wonder how many more."

Rush tried, but David was far too fast for him. By the time he got to the door David was already half way down the street, and Rush lost sight of him completely within seconds.

Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!

 

"Rowen speaking."

"It's Qubine. They're coming."


	42. Quartz

[AR1141, spring]

The weather was absolutely terrible. It had stopped raining in the afternoon, but the deluge had started again, even more fiercely than it did in the morning, just when Jean Paulet was ready to go home. Fortunately all of his work was on Level 3 today so he could drive to work and now drive home.

After dropping Theresa off at her manor, Jean Paulet was nearing his own home when he saw a figure standing in the middle of the road. He couldn't swerve, but he was travelling slowly enough that he could stop without slamming too hard on the brakes. Fighting down a mild panic, he was just about to put the gear on reverse — carjacks were not common but they did happen — when his headlights allowed him to see that person better. The windscreen wipers were performing a valiant but ultimately futile job at keeping the glass clear, and the person was hooded, but Jean Paulet could still recognise his best friend straight away.

He scrambled to open the door on the passenger side. "David! Get in!"

Soaked from top to bottom, David sat in the car and closed the door.

"Why were you standing there? You're going to get sick! Let's go to mine now and you can dry off—"

David put a hand on the gear stick.

"David?"

"Can I trust you?"

Jean Paulet paused. There was something very wrong with David's voice. "Mon ami." He reached over and pushed David's hood off his head. "What's wrong?"

The red eyes were mostly hidden by damp hair. "There is something I need to know."

Something terrible must have happened, Jean Paulet thought. David was the strongest person he had ever known. What could have shaken him so much? "You can trust me. What is it?"

"Are you my friend?"

"Of course!" said Jean Paulet, puzzled. "What? You've come to ask me that?"

"Please be honest with me; I'm not going to fight, there's nothing worth me fighting for. I always knew it was strange that I found all these friends. Someone like me? What kind of luck was that? But I had fun these nine years, so thank you. Perhaps it's still better than living in poverty at a place with no hope."

"David."

"I just got careless and hoped too much. My mistake."

"David. I don't know what's happened but you are my friend and my brother. Can I please take us somewhere warm where you can get dry and we can talk?"

After some hesitation, David nodded. Relieved that his friend was finally listening, Jean Paulet moved over for a hug. Heavens, David really was soaked to the bone.

"Mon dieu! Is that the gear stick or are you that happy to see me?"

It was good to hear David snort.

Jean Paulet turned the car around and, after a bit of thought, drove back to his office. which was warm and equipped for the occasional overnight stay. He sat David down at the desk, gave him a towel and made him a hot drink.

"I'll just ring home and tell Emmy I'm still at work."

David looked up at him. He seemed much more composed now, though his eyes were still bloodshot. "Please don't tell anyone I'm here."

On the phone, Emmy said that Rush had called, and said if they saw David to please not let him go anywhere, and ring Paris or Rush right away. He would not explain what'd happened when Emmy inquired.

When Jean Paulet hung up and turned around, David had put down the drink and doubled over, burying his head in his arms and knees. Jean Paulet went over and crouched down in front of him.

"Paris and Rush are looking for you. I haven't said anything, but..."

David's body jolted. "Paris."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? I want to help you."

David shook his head.

"Are you in trouble? Do you want me to call Rowen for you?"

David shook his head again. "He's not home."

It didn't sound like love trouble, then, if David had already tried to find Rowen.

"JP, can I stay here for a while?"

"Well, if you want..."

"I won't give you any trouble. I just don't want to see anyone right now."

Jean Paulet could not refuse; he had a feeling his friend's sanity was depending on this. He shifted, kneeling now, and put a hand on David's arm. "How about Paris?"

"No one. Please. I know this will hurt him but I just can't."

Not even Paris? He was right, David was at his limit. But why, Jean Paulet didn't know. Things that Qubine had told him before came to mind, the horrific past, but Jean Paulet's role was to be the friend who didn't know about those things so that David could be the person he wanted to be now. And Jean Paulet would not veer from that unless he knew David wanted him to.

Stretching a bit, he opened the top drawer of his desk and fumbled for its contents. "Here," he got hold of a packet of biscuits, nudging David's knees with it. "Let's have dinner."

That finally made David lift his head. Goodness, that look on his face broke Jean Paulet's heart.

"Come on. They're chocolate-covered!"

"You should go home. Your family's waiting."

"I will," Jean Paulet said, opening up the food, "because I know you'd feel bad otherwise. But not until you eat with me and I'm satisfied that you're better."

Clearly David could tell there was no way he could get around this blackmail, so he accepted a biscuit.

"Thank you." David closed his eyes. "I might try and get hold of Rowen again later. If he's back I'll go to his. I'll try not to stay here too long."

Jean Paulet bit back a sigh. "Don't worry about that, you can stay as long as you want. Use my phone if you need... use anything here, it's fine. If you do go to Rowen's, I'd rather you wait for me and don't try to go alone but... at least leave me a note, compris?"

David nodded, finishing one biscuit and reaching for another.

"If it's not to Rowen's, can I ask that you talk to me before you go anywhere?"

That was not a good request to make, Jean Paulet realised this as David paused and lowered his gaze. Rush had just asked anyone who found David to keep him in one place. What Jean Paulet just said must sound like he was going to sell David out.

"You're not in good shape. If you go out like this I'd worry about you. Not every car will stop for someone standing in the middle of the road, you know." Jean Paulet forced a smile. "But if you do need to take off then... at least give me a phonecall later, s’il te plaît? And remember my doors are always open."

David covered his eyes with a hand and choked down a sob.

"Thanks. I... I know I can trust you. It's just... people I'd trusted in, people I'd die for... it's because of them that I can come this far and then... it's all just a lie."

Jean Paulet waited, but David said nothing more, tugging the towel from his shoulders and pressing it against his eyes. Could this be something to do with Rush? That could be why David was here and not at his brother's, where Rush worked. Jean Paulet must try to locate Rush later, but the question was going to be how he could extract the whole story out of Rush without giving anything away himself.

He waited until his friend's shoulders stopped shaking again.

"It's a noble thought but personally, rather than dying for anyone, I prefer to talk about living. And you do have someone to live for, oui? You told me you'd fight tooth and nail to be with him."

David nodded.

"Okay. Let's look into my top drawer and see what kind of dinner we can put together. What do you think about chocolate biscuit and crisps sandwiches?"

 

The phone rang just as the sky was starting to brighten outside. David jolted awake, realised where he was and wondered if he should wake Jean Paulet, before noticing that his friend was already reaching for the phone.

"Hello?" Jean Paulet rubbed his eyes. "Ma chérie. I should have called, sorry. I didn't mean to stay so long."

It must be Emmy on the phone. David checked the time: not quite morning yet. She must be furious that her husband didn't go home or call to say he was away for the night.

Jean Paulet listened, half awake until all of a sudden he was totally alert. "Now? I see. Merci. I guess I should go, then."

As soon as his friend put the receiver down, David spoke. "Sorry. I did say you should go home."

"Don't be silly. Even if I did, I'd be too worried about you to sleep," said Jean Paulet. "Mon ami, the Council just called my house looking for me. There is an emergency meeting I need to attend."

Emergency? "Would Rowen be there?"

"Everyone will be. Do you want to come with me and wait in the car? I can tell him—"

"No, it's fine," David interrupted, sitting up with minimal fuss. It turned out his body still remembered how best to sleep on a hard floor. "I just wondered if he'd be home. I'll look for him later, I don't want to get in his way."

"Are you sure?" Jean Paulet knelt down in front of him. "I don't really want to leave you here if there's an alternative."

This was a true friend. But if even this was a lie, even if Rowen was a lie, then David would rather he never knew. He would rather it all stayed like this until it was time for the curtain to fall.

If it felt right, then why should he care that it wasn't real? Didn't Zephyr always use to say something like that when they were younger?

He should give Zephyr a call.

"I know the people who work for him. They'll let me in if I really ask. Don't mention me to Rowen right now, he's busy and I don't want him to worry."

Jean Paulet's frown told David he wasn't entirely satisfied with this, but he would accept it for now. After making doubly sure that David would be fine on his own, Jean Paulet hurried to the meeting.

Sitting down at the desk, David considered what he could say to Zephyr before ringing the number home.

"What?"

That was not a happy voice. "Sorry for calling so early..."

"David? Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at a friend's."

"Rush came here last night running around like his arse was on fire. He said—"

"Don't trust him."

"What?"

"He can't be trusted."

Pause. "Okay... well, he said there was a misunderstanding."

Of course Rush would say that. "Is Roeas there?"

"Gone to work."

"Isn't today her day off?"

"It was." Zephyr sounded very displeased. "Then the phone rang five minutes ago and she rushed out."

That would explain why Zephyr was so grumpy. Whatever that emergency meeting was about, it seemed very serious for all the cardinals and even off duty bodyguards to be called. Suddenly David wondered if he should have gone with Jean Paulet. Not that he didn't trust Roeas, but if Rowen needed additional protection he could certainly provide that.

"Hey, are you alright? If you've fallen out with Rush..."

"Hmm." David raked his fingers through his hair. "Yes, I'll cope. Just... don't do anything for the moment, but keep an eye out. Don't... don't..."

"Don't hurt him?"

David squeezed his eyes shut. "Sorry. I know I just told you not to trust him. I'm useless."

After a brief silence, Zephyr spoke again. "Remember when Roeas went AWOL and you told me to hang in there, things might just turn out okay?"

"Yes."

"Pretend I said something just as cool to you."

David couldn't help but chuckle.

"If it does come down to a fight," and it was a fight Zephyr would definitely win, "he has something on him that looks like a clip but isn't. That's my kill switch. Please keep it safe for me."

"Got it," said Zephyr. "Are you coming back?"

"Not right now." Rush might be waiting for him. He would try to talk and David would put a gun to that face before he could stop himself.

That wasn't how David wanted to repay years of unflinching friendship, even if it wasn't real. But he couldn't bring himself to admit to Zephyr that he would rather be taken back to Aetersyl than to see Rush's face blown open at close range. Right now he could still choose, and he was choosing to run away.

"I'll go home after I've finished being paranoid."

"Want me to pack a bag and drop it somewhere for you to pick up? Clothes and ammo and stuff?"

"Yes. That'd be very helpful. Thanks."

"Hey, whatever you've gotta do, do it in style, right?"

After talking with Zephyr, David waited for Jean Paulet to return. Although he was much calmer now than he was last night, he couldn't figure out where he could go or what he wanted to do. The people in white coats had won; they had a hand in his head and a hand on his heart. Qubine and Rush betrayed him, yet he couldn't bring himself to seek justice or revenge.

In the past, he might have chosen to close his eyes and cover his ears, pretend none of this ever happened and continue to live his life until the day the white coats came again. Or escape from Basel for good. In all likelihood, he would have chosen the easy way out that had always tempted him, hoping this death would satisfy the maniac in his head once and for all.

But none of these were acceptable choices to him now, because he didn't want to leave Rowen.

He wanted to believe in them. But whichever way he thought about it. this could not possibly be simple coincidences and misunderstandings. Not long ago Vashyron had reminded him that secrets were not always kept for sinister reasons, and hell if he didn't know that was true, having himself hidden so many things from the people he loved—

"David!"

He had heard the footsteps, but the way Jean Paulet burst through the door still made David jump. He checked the clock on the wall. It had been two hours. "You're back sooner than I expected."

"Later than I wanted!" Jean Paulet stopped in front of his desk, breathing hard. "I'm not allowed to discuss the reasons at the moment, but Basel will be evacuated in..." he checked the clock too, "just over an hour."

David just gaped at his friend.

"We aim to move everyone to the bunkers within eight hours. The military has been mobilised and the hunters will be requested the assist with the operation. David—"

"Just what is going on?"

"I cannot discuss this right now!" Jean Paulet slammed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Mon ami, I want you to be safe, but I know that's not the option you'll pick. I would suggest that you stay by Paris's side, but he should be on his way to oversee the evacuation of his diocese as we speak, and I need to do the same. I don't think you'll be able to locate him. If you return to the hunters—"

Jean Paulet was trying to remain calm, but David himself was too shocked to do the same. "How about Emmy and Agnetha?"

"I've spoken to them on the téléphone. People will be there to help them move to safety." A helpless smile. "But I must do my job. Information will be distributed once most of the population is secure; hunters will be told far sooner than that, I am sure, because we'll be asking for their help on Chandelier."

A battle on Chandelier, then? "Is there anything I can help you with? Do you want me to go with you? Maybe I can go and help Emmy out?"

"My family will be fine; we don't anticipate any immediate danger, this is all preparation in advance of the battle. I'm just here to retrieve some information and tell you what's happening. You do whatever your heart tells you, mon ami."

David had no idea what he wanted to do yet, but he wasn't going to stay here. He started putting on his shoes and jacket as Jean Paulet rummaged through his filing cabinets, pulling out a document printed with a huge cover title: _Fourth Diocese Evacuation Drawings, Revision 5_. Then he returned to David again.

"Two more things: Paris asked me if I'd seen you, he's worried sick. I told him I'm sure you'll get in touch. Also, I talked to Rowen."

David raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"All I said was, 'how about David?' and I swear to God, he blushed!" Jean Paulet found the time to giggle. "He said keeping in contact with you right now is nigh on impossible, but if I see you then I should tell you to stay safe."

The thought of Rowen's face turning red brought a smile to David's lips.

"Okay, David, I must run. There are people waiting for me outside. We will talk again after this all blows over, oui? Remember that I love you."

David gave his friend a hug.

"I'll leave after you've gone. Take care."

 

After Jean Paulet had hurried to take the helicopter to the levels below, David headed to his manor and stayed with Emmy, Agnetha and Charlotte until they decided to move to the shelter.

It wasn't a good idea to wait, David told them, as did numerous other people, but they refused to leave their home until evacuation for the general public began. They didn't want to receive priority treatment and Jean Paulet had told Emmy there was plenty of time and no need to panic. She believed in her husband.

That wasn't what David was worried about.

At least this gave them plenty of time to secure the grounds. It was the first time David saw those electric fences put to use. Doubtful of their effectiveness, he gave them a test, and quickly learned that it was a terrible idea and the fences would do a good job stopping any potential looter.

"Idiot."

Sucking his burnt fingertip, David turned around to see Charlotte staring at him.

"You can't fire me on the grounds of idiocy."

She walked away, barely able to suppress a smile. "I should have included that clause in your contract."

By the time the women of the house decided it was acceptable to leave, it was starting to get dark. David was no bodyguard but he still didn't like this sort of light; in darkness the streetlamps would be on and the guards would be more alert, but this kind of lighting gave a false sense of security when it was actually starting to get dangerous. Because they were leaving so late, the evacuation was in full swing and any opportunist would have had time to get here, and instead of just looting the manor, bullets would fly. If it came down to a fight, their group did have a few armed guards, including David, but they also had a baby in a pram. Who should David protect: his best friend's wife, the baby, or his future sister-in-law?

"You seem tense." Beside David, Emmy said all of a sudden, pushing the pram like she was just going for a stroll.

The ground was still wet from the storm last night. David looked up, checking the sky. He hoped the weather would hold at least until they were somewhere safe. "I would prefer that you and Charlotte walked closer together, if you don't mind."

Emmy laughed at him, but she adjusted her stride so that Charlotte could catch up. "I thought it was something to do with your runaway act."

"Can't a boy stay out for a night without everyone getting on his case?"

"Just staying out for a night, of course," commented Charlotte, impassive as usual. "That was exactly why Paris couldn't eat or sleep yesterday."

Damn Charlotte and her guilt-tripping.

"I'll get in touch with him." David decided to say as little as he had to on the issue, since he couldn't explain himself and he would never win a war of words against this woman. She probably still saw him as a thorn in Paris's side anyway, and wished that he never existed to begin with. That was how he would've thought if he was in her position.

How annoying. David had hoped that by coming here to help out he could spend a few hours not thinking about his own problems, but the ladies just had to drag his mind back there.

But he found his distraction soon enough, in the form of a few men hidden just behind the gate at the bottom of the private drive. But none of the guards walking ahead of the group was reacting — he was the only one who could see them in this semi-darkness, David realised as he pulled out his guns in one swift motion, at the same time moving on ahead.

The men took advantage of the situation and moved in, weapons loaded and ready. Finally spotting them, the guards opened fire, a few of them missing their targets. Sliding on gravel, David ducked slightly, just managing to squeeze through a gap between two guards, and did what he did best, not missing the fact that another gun had come up beside him and shot at the intruders as well.

When it was over, David stood up and looked confusedly at Emmy, who was putting away her weapon.

"What?" she asked him. "I did tell you on our first date I used to be in the army."

"You said you were an army doctor. And by 'first date' you mean our only date." It was Paris who set them up, back when he didn't know David had no interest in women and David thought it was hilarious to still go anyway.

"Technicalities."

David moved forward a little, surveying the damage. Given that she couldn't see nearly as well as he could, she did a good job.

"I guess we just have to leave them here for now. But this is going to stink by the time we come back," said Emmy, taking the control of her pram back from Charlotte.

"It'll serve as a warning to anyone else who might try to come here though," said Charlotte, casually walking over a corpse.

Never mess with the women of this house, David told himself.

And... oh, bother. He'd broken the contract right in front of Charlotte.

He went to walk next to her. "Please don't fire me please don't fire me," he muttered, his head bowed. He should've left the intruders to the guards and Emmy. The job at the cafe was one he couldn't afford to lose if he was to have a somewhat stable future with Rowen.

"Hmm?" Charlotte said, not bothering to look at him. "As far as I could tell, my sister-in-law was the one who took down those men. You didn't even manage to land a single shot."

Ah... "My apologies. I'm useless as a protector."

"Completely useless."

 

Paris's mother. Rhagoh. Rush's family. David hoped they were all okay. From what he could see on Chandelier, the evacuation was fairly orderly and without too much panic despite the lack of information. All everyone had been told so far was that this was a direct order from Cardinal Rowen; it showed just how much the people here trusted in their leader, though what the reaction was at the lowest levels, David couldn't even begin to guess.

When there was nothing more he could do on Chandelier, David headed home, assuming that Rush would be too busy to ambush him now.

"Hey!" There was a small gathering around the coffee table — a vending machine laid on its side with a blanket thrown over it — at the other half of the house, the occasional dining area of choice in this house. "You're back just in time, pizza's almost ready!"

Even if Vashyron didn't say anything, David could smell the food in the oven and suddenly he realised just how famished he was.

"I'll be there in a minute. Really need to shower first."

"Be quick or there won't be any left!" said Vashyron. "By the way, you just missed Qubine."

David froze. "What?"

Zephyr turned around from where he sat on the floor so that he could meet eyes with David. "He was here half an hour ago and left something for you. It's on your bed."

Qubine came here. David felt like the cogs in his head just got stuck on that point. "Did he say anything?"

"Nope. I think he knew you weren't in. Didn't ask for you, just left a box."

David went to his room and, just as Zephyr said, there was something on his bed. It looked exactly like the box he had Qubine make for him to put the experiments documents in before he left Chandelier a few years ago. Different in size, but the same strong construction and it even unlocked with the same key.

Inside was an object David had seen many, many of in the past.

A piece of quartz.


	43. Proof

[AR1141, winter/spring]

It was an admission of guilt, then. David wasn't surprised that Qubine had had his quartz all this time; he was Qubine's experiment, after all.

What he wanted to know was 'why'. Why give this to him now. Why all these years of pretense.

Well, at least he now knew why Qubine turned him down last year.

He locked the box and put it away under the bed. What was he supposed to do with it? Perhaps he should look for a place to hide it, but right here was as safe as anywhere else. He couldn't bring himself to care about it more. The last two days had been too emotionally intense, he felt as though there was nothing left in him anymore.

He joined his housemates for dinner after a shower. Ebel City had been fully evacuated and only the hunters remained. There had been no information or instruction yet, but everyone had their own theory on what was going on, some more convincing than others.

"It's the end of the world as we know it." Vashyron raised his bottle of beer. "Well, cheers! Can't believe I'm spending my last day with you losers."

Various types of glasswares clinked together. "Can't believe I'm spending it without Roeas," Zephyr muttered.

"Without Pater," said Leanne.

"And without my better half." said David.

There was a pause, and then a collective groan of disappointment.

"One day we're gonna find out who he is, you know."

David smiled. "Or not, considering this is the last day of our lives."

The housemates grumbled some more, but finally decided to let it drop.

The house felt strangely quiet with the city outside virtually empty, and they couldn't decide if the sound of the turning gears, previously just a background noise but now loud and clear, was reassuring or eerie. Zephyr turned on the TV but there was only a message displayed telling viewers to go to the nearest bunker, so he put the stereo on instead, playing whatever it was that Vashyron last put in it.

"If the world's really ending," said Vashyron over the jazz fusion, a slice of pizza in his hand, "should I go and try my luck with Cardinal Barbarella?"

"The fruit could be hanging pretty low right now," said Zephyr.

Leanne gave the men a look. "I'd love to see you try, and fail."

"So would I," said David, "though I think you might have trouble finding her."

It might be difficult to find Paris, too, but after a moment's thought, David put down his dinner and went to the phone. He should at least give it a try.

The call was answered in a manner different from how the household staff usually dealt with phonecalls.

"Hello?"

David didn't think Rush would be answering the phone; the manor must be empty now. He considered hanging up, then told himself not to be stupid.

"Is Paris there?"

"Da—" Rush cut himself off. "Hold on."

Footsteps echoed and faded, then David could hear someone running towards the phone.

"David! Are you all right?"

"Yes. How is it going? Is Madam okay?"

"She's fine. I just came back to retrieve some things, so you called at the right time," Paris said. "We need to talk."

"Would you have time? I really just wanted to tell you I'm fine..."

"I need to finish up here, then the area is being locked down. I can see you after that, before going to the command centre."

"I see."

"How about we meet at the cafe?"

"If that's convenient for you."

"This isn't about convenience!"

David flinched a little; Paris rarely raised his voice. "Okay. Then can I ask you to not bring Rush with you?"

A pause. "I'll take other guards."

"That's fine."

"I'll be there as quickly as I can. Please wait for me."

"Don't worry, I won't run this time."

 

It looked like someone had tried their luck with the gate. They didn't do a very good job, since the main lock was only a bit scratched up and none of the others were touched. David wondered what anyone was hoping to take from the cafe. Coffee beans? Cake? There was definitely no cash since none was ever kept here overnight.

Walking inside, he left the main light off, favouring a small lamp by the till. He didn't really need it — the moonlight through the windows was more than sufficient for him to see — but it would help Paris when he arrived.

Apparently the guild was told they would receive instructions from the Council at around this hour, so his housemates were now waiting for the phonecall. But David was sure that Paris could tell him about the situation as well, so he didn't need to stay home and wait.

He got himself a glass of water and waited, and soon he could hear quiet voices nearby, Paris telling whoever was accompanying him to wait outside. Then the backlit figure of Paris pulled open the gate and walked up the few steps at the entrance.

"David?"

"Right here," said David, waiting for Paris's vision to adjust to the minimal lighting. "Sorry to have made you worry. Charlotte said... well she wasn't happy with me."

Paris came towards him, the glare of the lamp making him narrow his eyes. "So long as you're all right. You saw Charlotte?"

"I went with her and Emmy to the shelter."

"Oh, God bless you, brother." Paris's smile was genuine, but also strained. The news that his future wife was safe brought relief, but he was clearly still troubled and exhausted. David took him by the arm and made him sit down at a table.

After a few moments, Paris heaved a sigh. "This reminds me of that time, you and me in a dark room. There was a lamp, and a glass of water..."

David didn't say anything. That was a day that was forever etched into his memory, when he lost his sanity in front of this new family and was still accepted. Or so he thought. Now he wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

"Rush told me... that you think he is helping Qubine, and Qubine is using you as a lab rat," Paris continued, leaning his weight on the table. "You couldn't be more wrong. They've been protecting you."

Paris was on their side. David kept his calm as much as he could.

"I'm listening."

"After that... incident on the day you met Rush, I started investigating into the dealings of the cardinal in charge of Cranktown, based on what you told me and a few rumours I'd heard. That winter, towards the end of the year, Qubine suddenly asked me to meet him one night. Right here, actually, before Charlotte bought this place and rebuilt it.

"I came here with Rush. Qubine said he'd realised I was investigating his mother, something he was also doing. He was the one who gave me the information I passed onto you.

"I questioned him, of course. I didn't trust him at first, but there was no choice since he had found out I was looking into it.

"Some time after that, he was off sick from college for a while. I went to see him, and he gave me another lot of documents, the ones you wouldn't let me read. He also told me not to read them, he said he wished he didn't have to live with that knowledge.

"I did ask him once, what if I told you about him? And he said he would rather that I didn't, but he wasn't going to stop me. Rush and I decided to keep the secret, because we thought that'd help you move on. Maybe that was a wrong decision. But Rush had no ill intention, and neither did Qubine. You need to understand this."

It took long minutes for David to sort his thoughts and give Paris a response.

"I believe you. But I don't believe him."

Paris looked devastated. "Why?"

"What you've just told me is that Qubine controlled all the information from the start. It is entirely possible that he manipulated you and Rush."

"I..." Paris drew back slightly. "I cannot dispute that. But he'd done so much for you! Do you really think he's that kind of person?"

"I don't know what kind of a person he is; I don't think I ever knew. He'd played me like a complete fool. What had he done for me apart from pretend he never knew anything so that I agonised and agonised over something that turned out not to matter anyway?"

Mouth hanging open, Paris met David's eyes for a while, and then looked away.

"He changed his entire life for you. But I don't think you'll believe anything I tell you now."

"He could come and defend himself."

"I thought about that, but no one has been able to find him. I don't think he even knows that you now know everything." Paris sighed. "I hope he's in a shelter by now."

If Qubine hadn't realised, then why did he give David back his quartz all of a sudden?

"So what's going on out there?"

"We're going to be attacked by the same people who took down Lucia." The topic brought a slight tremor to Paris's voice. "It's forecasted that they'll go straight for the top, but the full evacuation is to ensure safety and so that... the citizens won't encounter those creatures."

David stood up.

An invasion. Rowen's worst nightmare.

"The hunters are being asked to help maintain order whilst the military battles on Chandelier. We thought there was going to be more time to prepare but the prediction was moved forward a while ago to midnight." Paris checked his watch, standing as well. "I must go."

"Paris. Take care." David wished he could go with him. This is exactly the type of thing he was good for. But the cardinals would definitely be appropriately protected. If David went, eyebrows would be raised and it would affect how Paris was seen by his peers.

Damn having to worry about that sort of thing even at this sort of time.

"David." Paris put his chair back, paused, then raised his gaze to his brother. "You said that you don't believe what I just told you—"

"I believe that you believed what Qubine said."

"And you said he hasn't done anything for you. So what _has_ he done to deserve this distrust? What is his crime?"

David couldn't reply.

"None of us can choose our family. Even if we hated each other, you would always be my brother, just as he will always be his mother's son even after he..."

Paris didn't finish his sentence.

"I... I need proof."

"I wonder just what kind of proof there could be to show you he's always been on your side, like the rest of us." Paris chuckled, bitter. He stepped forward and put his arms around David. "I must go now. Be careful, don't get hurt."

"You too. And... please give Rush my apologies."

"I will."

 

It looked like everyone had got the news by the time David got home again; they were picking which weapons to take. He went and did the same.

"What are the actual orders?" he asked.

"Fight them off at the edge of the level, if they come. Or go to Chandelier if we want, but insurance ain't gonna cover this one."

"Paris told me the Council thinks they'll go straight to the top."

"I wouldn't be surprised, since they can fly," muttered Vashyron, putting down one gun and picking up another. "So what are you guys gonna do?"

"Go up," said Zephyr. David made a sound of agreement.

Leanne chose to stay; she knew where her limits were. Going into this battle would be suicide for her.

Vashyron patted her on the shoulder in a parental gesture. "Well, it's three of us then."

"You're going to Chandelier too? Zephyr and David are different, but you—"

"A lot of good men died in Lucia."

The three men left the house, heading directly to the Core Lift. Without special abilities, Vashyron stood a smaller chance than his friends, but David was convinced that Zephyr would make sure they both stayed alive. As for him, he was going to split up from them.

He was going to Aetersyl.

 

The grounds around the facility were like a maze, but also entirely unguarded. David wondered if he'd come too late and everyone had already left for safety. It was difficult to imagine Qubine leaving his work to take shelter, but he was a logical man and would understand that death or injury would prevent him from doing what he loved, be it reading or experimenting on humans.

Qubine had control of everything since the beginning. Probably even what he gave Paris, what formed the basis of David's understanding about himself, was a carefully constructed lie. Manipulating David was one thing, he was willing to pretend ignorance if it meant he could spend a little longer with those he loved. But to play with Paris's and Rush's feelings too, that was unforgivable. David couldn't allow Qubine to die now. He needed answers.

Finally he was outside the building. There were a few people coming out, ushered by the army whose job was clearly to protect the scientists and couldn't care less about the new arrival.

A familiar face caught David's attention, someone David never figured out if he was Leanne's friend or father figure. "Juris?"

Hearing his name, Juris went over to David, surprised. "What are you doing here? Is Leanne okay?"

"She's on Level 4. I think she'll be fine," David told him. "I'm looking for someone who works here. Do you know a man called Qubine? Long hair, around this tall—"

Juris nudged his glasses. "Qubine? He left a few hours ago, said he had things to do."

"He left?"

"Took me by surprise too, he never leaves here unless he gets kicked out. He told us to evacuate but well, you can tell we didn't listen until now."

"Did he say where he was going?"

A new voice joined them. Someone who David didn't know had come over. A frail-looking boy with a Level 8 accent. "He was being pretty cryptic as usual. He said he had a job to finish,...putting something where it belongs, or something like that."

Did Qubine mean David's quartz?

"That's all?"

"Yes, that's more than he usually tells us already... Juris, come on, we need to get moving, can't keep everyone waiting."

The soldiers were getting annoyed by the delay. David thanked them and let them go. They should be fine with their own squad of soldiers protecting them.

But where was Qubine?


	44. Sullivan

[AR1141, winter/spring]

The staff were leaving the manor grounds when Qubine returned home. They were relieved when they saw him, and reassured him that the place had been locked down as per procedures, Cardinal Pater was overseeing evacuation at his diocese and then he would join the rest of the Council at the command centre. Master Qubine should go with them to the bunker, they said, to ensure his own safety.

Running past the group, Qubine told them to continue without him. There were worried voices and shouts behind him, and he thought perhaps he should stop and say something that would reassure them, a quick lie like he was going to join Pater later, but that would require turning around and he couldn't afford the time, so he kept running.

"Master! Master!"

The maid came up beside him. Qubine glared at her.

"Go with everyone. I'll be there later."

She didn't reply, but lifted her hand to show Qubine a large set of keys.

Qubine couldn't believe he forgot such a detail.

Gates and doors were unlocked. Qubine didn't need to return to his workshop; every bit of work he had done that was of value had been backed up. But he needed something from his room.

He wished there was more he could give David. A method to reverse the changes made to him. A way to turn back time so that Sullivan could be stopped before it all began. Hope. Miracles.

In the end, all he had was a piece of quartz.

The maid smiled when he reappeared, having ditched the lab coat and pulled on the long coat David gave him for Christmas.

They stood outside the gates after everything was properly locked up again.

"I'm afraid all I can give you is my thanks for your loyal service."

"That is enough for me," she said. "Please return safely."

He nodded at her, then ran. He wasn't going to make a promise he wouldn't be able to keep.

 

He watched the house on 11th Street for a while before deciding that David was not at home. A good thing, because he couldn't answer any question right now. He gave the box to the housemates, who were trustworthy people and in any case, David was the only one who had the key.

Travelling back up to Chandelier when practically every person on Basel was on the move was just as difficult as he had expected. After spending some time waiting in line at the Core Lift, an earlier phonecall paid off as Cardinal Antourion's staff found him and said the cardinal was about to leave the level by helicopter and could give him a ride.

Looking out from the helicopter, there were no signs of the invaders yet, but Qubine knew it was only a matter of hours before it would all start. The numbers weren't going to be too huge — a couple of hundred at most — but that was more than enough to take down Basel if they weren't prepared.

Antourion tapped him on the shoulder and said something, but he couldn't hear it over the sound of the rotating blades. The old man cupped his hands around Qubine's ear and tried again.

"I said: what were you doing down there?"

"Just a personal errand."

Antourion frowned at him as if to say: at this sort of time?

Qubine didn't explain. Instead, he shouted, "I have a request."

"And that is?"

"I need to get inside the Basilica."

Antourion gave him another look before asking, "why?"

"Another personal errand." This wouldn't be enough to convince the cardinal, so Qubine added, "and if Zenith got damaged, you'd want someone there to try to fix it."

There, he said the name. To his credit, Antourion didn't seem too surprised.

"Do you know how?"

"I have a mini screwdriver set in my pocket."

 

Qubine waited at the command centre for the top three cardinals to decide whether or not he should be allowed near Zenith. If they said no, he would just have to find a way in when the inevitable chaos began later. The chance of survival enroute was slim, but he was quite sure they would give him clearance.

The other cardinals were starting to gather. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Jean Paulet, but pretended he didn't see him, wandering closer only after the cardinal finished reporting on the status of his diocese.

Jean Paulet jumped. "Mon ami! What are you doing here?"

"Doing something for your boss," he replied, impassive.

"Ah, I should've known. I'm so glad to see you!"

"Can't say I feel the same." Just because this was the last time they would ever speak to each other didn't mean anything needed to change; that would just ruin the memories. "Have you seen Pater?"

"There is a queue for the héliport. I'm quite sure he should be landing around now."

"How about the others?"

"Whoever could you mean?"

Qubine shot Jean Paulet a look. His friend patted him on the shoulder.

"I was with David last night. He was in a pretty bad way, but he refused to tell me what the problem was." A long sigh. "By this morning he'd perked up a bit though."

"It's not something to do with Rowen, is it?"

"No, but... you knew?"

"I worked it out," said Qubine without thinking. Lying had become second nature.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised." The hand on Qubine's shoulder squeezed lightly. "Don't worry, if there is only one of us who knows how to look after himself, it's him. He should be with Paris or his friends now."

Not for long, Qubine thought. As soon as David found out what kind of attack this was going to be, he would make his way to Chandelier.

It looked like Jean Paulet had more to say, but he hushed when Rowen appeared with his bodyguard. The top cardinal approached them, the ever-present frown actually looking slightly less intense than usual at this critical hour.

"We'll go there together," he told Qubine.

They left the command centre, Qubine having to fight down all those silly sentimental feelings and stop himself from putting his arms around Jean Paulet and tell him how good a friend he had been. It wouldn't do that drama queen any good to give him cause to worry now.

But on his way out, he did see Pater and that embrace was easy, because Pater did it first.

An army truck was waiting outside. It look like they were going to station another platoon of soldiers at the Basilica as well.

"Rowen," Qubine said just before they climbed on. Most likely there was no need for him to say anything at this point, but he felt that he had to check. "Are you sure about this?"

His hand on a metal bar and a foot on the step, Rowen half turned around. The soldiers onboard had stood up, ready to salute the leader.

"It is right for me to be there as the final line of defence."

Just as Qubine thought. Right now, Rowen must feel just like him, anxious and afraid, adrenaline making all the emotions go haywire. And yet, clarity was making itself known amidst the chaos. They knew where they needed to be, what they must do. And that, in its own way, put them at ease.

They sat down on the bench at the back.

"I don't think it'll come to that. We're prepared this time."

Rowen nodded, not necessarily in agreement, but showing that he heard him.

"Antourion said you have something personal to do. Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"If I told you then it wouldn't be personal anymore, would it?"

Rowen snorted.

"I can see why he likes you."

This was not a topic Qubine expected they would digress to.

"For a man as well-read as you, your grammar is terrible. _Liked._ "

A soft sigh. Rowen looked down at his hands.

"I wonder."

 

It was nearly midnight and battle was about to begin. Emergency floodlights had been set up, pointing skywards, but even without those David could see _them_ flying just outside of the beams, like a swarm of deadly insects. Shooting at them right now would just be a waste of bullets, the battle would have to be fought on the ground, and to the ground they definitely would come. They came to Chandelier because there was something they wanted, or wanted to do here. This wasn't going to be random destruction like it was in Lucia.

For now, it was a waiting game as the outsiders moved into formation and the Basel military prepared themselves. As a hunter who had volunteered his services, getting around wasn't too difficult yet, and David hoped he could find Qubine before everything began.

Not knowing where else he could search, he headed for the command centre. If Qubine had a hand in the preparation for this war, then he might be there.

It was called a command centre, but in reality it was a highly reinforced shelter which was heavily guarded, and very few commands were issued from there. David could imagine his brother Paris being quite irked by this but really, what could the cardinals do at a time like this? Rowen, Garigliano, Antourion and Theresa were the only ones who had experience in military command; the current generation were all green. This wasn't their fault and anyone with a bit of sense would rather the cardinals were there for the aftermath rather than die in battle.

David had no idea how close he could get to the building before he was stopped. He could only hope that someone who knew him was watching from the windows or cameras and give permission for him to go inside.

Yes, someone had definitely spotted him, because the soldiers were waving him through. He got all the way to the entrance, ready to thank whoever it might be, and came face to face with someone he should have known was there, but didn't expect to see.

He couldn't decipher the look in Veronique's eyes.

"Rowen went with Qubine to the Basilica."

She thought he came here for Rowen. He didn't, but he got the information he needed anyway, and more.

"The Basilica? But why? This is where he would be safe!" This was insane. What was Rowen thinking, and why was Qubine with him? "I have to go!"

"Please keep him safe!"

"I won't let anyone touch him! Go back inside!"

"You really are... he's chosen well. I can't make myself go, I'm too afraid. But you... I can never compare to you."

Above, the enemy had stopped moving, as if suspended in midair. Then they began to descend sharply. The first shots rang in the night. The battle had begun.

Manners became unimportant at a time like this. David gave Veronique a hard shove, sending her stumbling backwards. "Stay in there!" he yelled, then he reached for the metal doors and slammed them shut even before the soldiers reacted.

David ran faster than he had ever run in his life. Rowen, and Qubine. He couldn't let the enemy touch either of them.

 

The real humans, Qubine noticed when he caught glimpses of them through the windows, all looked like mere children, but this coincided with Sullivan's notes, and Qubine was certain they were all older than they appeared. This would explain why David seemed to have hardly aged since they first met.

Rowen's bodyguard appeared beside him, looking out with some binoculars she'd taken from the truck earlier.

"Looks fun," Roeas muttered.

"They will come in here," he told her. "You won't miss out."

"Hmm." Moving away from the window, she pulled out her newly-issued gun, studying it. "You're a hopeless romantic."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes. "So, how's this supposed to help us win?"

"The enemies are much more resilient than us. With their speed, landing a hit is already not easy, and they would need to be shot multiple times before they're incapacitated."

"Ah, I get you. We can't match their speed, but with this we don't need to shoot them as many times?"

Qubine decided he liked Roeas. She was smart. "Yes. Getting the bullets to hit the targets is still key."

"Hmm." Roeas slotted the gun back inside her holster. "Another question. What are you waiting for?"

Qubine was silent for a moment, and the two of them watched a soldier report to Rowen the status of the battle outside. Here, deep inside the Basilica, the sounds of gunshots were only faint, but this hollow peace would not last.

"Come on, you miserable git. What are you doing here?"

"Miserable? Isn't that the adjective for describing your husband?"

"My husband is the epitome of fun." She put a hand on her hip and cocked her head to one side. Her long ponytail swished, gliding over a shoulder. "I have a job to do. But if what you need doesn't interfere with my job I can try to accommodate."

Insult didn't work, and she did have a point.

Qubine put his hand in a coat pocket and felt for his gun, the result of years of work and now his only chance. He should have brought a holster. After all this preparation, he'd forgotten about taking the correct accessories.

"This attack is orchestrated by someone who knows Basel. A man with silver white hair." He looked towards the stairs behind Rowen, at the top of which was an impossibly tall pair of metal doors. Zenith. He had not asked to go in, because he did not need to see it. "He's after what's in the next room."

"And you're after him."

"David told me I have very good aim. I hope he wasn't lying."

Given how much he and David had lied to each other over the years, this could well be just wishful thinking.

 

Paris was pacing. Rush wanted to join him, and force him to stop, at the same time. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do. People were going to die out there and here he was, at the safest place in Basel. He wanted to be out there, helping. He wanted to be with his family. He wanted to check if Rhagoh and Kate were safe. He wanted to go and look for David. He wanted to be here, at Paris's side, so that in the worst case scenario he could protect him.

Then all of a sudden he heard a familiar voice yelling something. Following the direction of the sound, he saw Cardinal Veronique near the exit, losing balance as if she had just tripped, and the doors sliding shut in front of her. Rush hurried over.

"Are you okay?" he asked, offering a hand. She smiled meekly at him, nodding in thanks. "What happened?"

He might be imagining things, but he could have sworn he just heard David's voice.

"I'm fine. He was just making sure I was away from danger."

"Was that Dave? Where's he gone?"

"To find Rowen and Qubine at the Basilica."

Once in a while, he really could do with a calm, pleasant day without any sudden panic, Rush thought. This was bad. This could become an epic clusterfuck.

He went back to Paris and told him what he just heard from Veronique. Paris visibly paled.

"Paris, I want to—"

"Rush, please—"

Rush didn't need to be told.

"I'll find him."

 

After a quick test, Roeas decided that David's assessment of Qubine was correct: he had phenomenal accuracy using the gun.

"But your reaction speed and physical agility will let you down. You're still not professional."

"I appreciate your vote of confidence," said Qubine, quietly pleased that the recoil felt easier to handle than before. He must have got better. "Any other observation?"

"Not really," she said, moving to stand in front of Rowen. His other bodyguards were in the room before this one, and she could hear them moving. The echoes of gunfire were very close. The battle would reach here within minutes. "Hope you're good at dodging."

"My lack of height plays to my advantage. Makes me a smaller target." Qubine smirked at Rowen. "Good luck, Tall Guy."

Rowen frowned in confusion.

"Ask David later."

Rowen was going to ask, but the doors leading to the hall flung open at this moment and two people walked in. Roeas fired a shot at their feet, warning them not to move.

The smaller person, who looked like a girl in her teens, growled. But her companion put a hand on her shoulder. Unlike the army he had brought with him, he was a grown man without a childlike face.

"This is a smaller welcome party than I expected."

Perhaps it was appropriate to first have a conversation, for Rowen to question the invaders' intentions, but Qubine had waited for this moment for nine years, he was not going to wait a second longer. Roeas was right, he was not a professional. Therefore he did not care about protocol.

Releasing the safety on his weapon, he fired at the man without warning.

Sullivan must die.


	45. Too Late

[AR1141, winter/spring]

Everyone sprung into action. Sullivan dodged and the small woman went straight for Qubine like an angry beast, only to realise that Roeas had picked her as her target. Roeas laughed sharply.

"I like your style!" she said to Qubine. "Let the bullets do the talking!"

Qubine said nothing, smiled and kept shooting at Sullivan, a man who should already be dead.

"Sullivan?" A group of soldiers had surrounded Rowen, their captain asking Rowen not to move so that they could deal with the intruders without him being harmed.

Sullivan's hair had grown very long, but he had it tied back the way he always used to. The man was moving at a speed that, in Rowen's eyes, should not be possible for someone born on Basel, rapidly moving away from the bullets that were chasing him.

"Oh, Rowen." Sullivan used the same smile that had always put Rowen on edge. "You seem confused. You must've thought I was dead. Sorry about that, old friend, I merely needed to vanish and it turned out it was fairly easy to fake a death."

Rowen could feel his blood boil. Since Sullivan and Juris explained to him the connection between quartz and human lives on Basel, he had kept a careful eye on the two. It didn't take a genius to spot that Sullivan was not a man to be trusted, but one of the cardinals found him useful and said she would keep him in line. In fact, was that not...

A bullet grazed Sullivan's shoulder. He looked at his attacker, who was starting to catch up with him, although it seemed like Sullivan was enjoying himself too much to cut short the conversation he was at first denied at the entrance.

"You..." he said, frowning at Qubine, as if trying to recall a distant memory, "I think I remember you. You're her son?"

The only response from Qubine was more bullets. It didn't look like he cared to talk.

Reaching one end of the hall, Sullivan smirked and did a swift turn, running directly towards Qubine.

"What happened to her? I'm curious."

No reply. The wound on Sullivan's shoulder didn't seem to be bleeding much — was it already healing? Was that even possible?

"I always did wonder if you were my child."

Qubine paused for only long enough to reload, and shrug. "It's possible," he said, taking several steps back as Sullivan was almost right up to him, and opened fire again. Sullivan moved away, then rammed himself into the smaller man with a strength that sent him flying several metres backwards.

"I see. You must've killed her then." He walked up to Qubine, who had started to get up, to deal him a kick across the head. "Unfortunately I won't be that easy."

This conversation was over, Rowen decided. Sullivan was a traitor who was bringing disaster upon Basel, that was all he needed to know. As for the claims Sullivan was making, whether they were true or not, they were not something the soldiers should hear. As bullets from Qubine pierced Sullivan's abdomen, Rowen gave command for the soldiers to fire.

A hand over his wound, Sullivan glanced at Rowen. "I don't want to have to kill you right now; I want to watch you wither and die with Basel."

Somehow, Rowen realised, Sullivan had left Basel and managed to survive in the outside world. He now lived with the real humans and decided Basel should be destroyed.

Sullivan was toying with them, hardly attacking, choosing to run around perhaps until their ammunition was exhausted. The woman who came with him was not doing the same, however, and Roeas clearly was not used to fighting something that moved erratically in the air using a pair of wings that looked like it was made of blood vessels.

Leaving Sullivan to Qubine and the soldiers, Rowen opened fire at the woman as she dived for Roeas, hitting her in her side. Her movement stuttered, the red lines of her wings burst and she fell through the air, screaming.

"Rebecca!" Sullivan shouted.

The gunshot and the fall angered Rebecca, but didn't hurt her enough to stop her from standing up. Instead of trying to shoot her again, Roeas caught her, lifting her off her feet, biting back a scream of her own as Rebecca struggled wildly.

"Someone take care of this!" shouted Roeas as Sullivan headed towards her with unimaginable speed, and two bullets hit him in the back.

"Move your head!" said Qubine.

Almost as soon as Roeas did so, Rebecca's face was blown open by a series of bullets, each one penetrating through the skull to bury itself in the wall behind. The sight took even the seasoned soldiers and Rowen aback.

Roeas let go, and the body fell. "Yeah, you've got really good aim. Cheers."

"You're welcome," Qubine replied softly as he reloaded. He had taken quite the beating and wasn't steady on his feet, so whether it was luck or skill that took down Rebecca, only he could tell.

Roeas was done for. Even though her face was covered in Rebecca's blood and whatever else, she made no move to wipe it off, and her hands were barely holding on to her weapons. Rebecca must have exceptional strength to have broken Roeas's arms during the short struggle.

The look in Sullivan's eyes changed. This game had gone too far and not in a direction he liked.

Rowen wondered which of them were going to survive.

 

It was impossible to ignore what was happening around him. The real humans fought out of hatred and fear for the unnatural, a basic instinct that told them what lived on Basel must be eliminated. Those who saw Basel as home fought for survival and a love for this mechanical world; life was often drab, there was danger at every turn, and one could even die without warning, but this was still home.

David understood the emotions of both sides very clearly. Seeing it displayed, he felt like he was about to lose his mind. It was as if the war that often went on in his head had expanded and taken the entire world with it.

When he arrived at the Basilica, those feelings became even more chaotic. There was hardly a sound in the outer halls, just echoes of gunfire from further within. If anybody survived the battle that took place here, they had chosen not to stay.

David crouched down to study the face of a man, one of the humans from outside. This was what the scientists wanted to make him into.

The noise in his head grew louder, higher pitched, like a sharp pain piercing through his brain.

He got up, and walked towards the sounds of gunshots. What was he doing here again? He couldn't quite remember.

Rowen. That was it. And Qubine. They must be somewhere up ahead, where bullets were being fired...

David gasped, breaking into a run.

He couldn't let them die!

 

Everything ached. Rowen felt like his whole body had been broken and just haphazardly glued back together, and he would fall apart any second.

But at least he was still alive. There were very few of them left now. Rowen couldn't be sure if some of the soldiers were just unconscious or dead. Sullivan, perhaps influenced by his life outside, did not use any firearm, and always kicked any gun away if it was dropped. But with his strength, Rowen could guess that at least several of the soldiers' necks had been snapped.

He was out of bullets again, but a clip came his way just in time. Roeas was doing her best moving survivors out of the way and getting clips from dead bodies for him and Qubine. But right now, Qubine was no longer standing. To be fair, if Rowen was kicked repeatedly like that he wouldn't be standing either.

His ears deafened from the echoes of endless gunshots, Rowen didn't hear anyone coming in. But he was expecting more reinforcements, so when someone suddenly appeared in his field of vision he thought that help had arrived.

And then he noticed there was just one person, and it was David.

Despite his ears, Rowen still heard the bone-chilling scream that tore from David's throat as soon as he set eyes on Sullivan.

The battle that unfolded before Rowen's eyes was unreal. David's movements, his extraordinary speed, easily matched Sullivan's, as if they were both children of the outside. But where Sullivan had started to become sluggish due to his injuries thanks to Qubine's determination — no, it was more than that, Qubine was possessed — David was fluid and graceful and clearly immensely powerful.

As if he was a living weapon.

"You were one of my best pieces of work," said Sullivan, looking strangely impressed. "Even on myself I didn't push things as far as I did on you. Maybe I should have."

David said nothing. He wasn't listening.

"Shit," Roeas muttered, coming towards Rowen. They noticed Qubine trying to sit up against a pillar, and went to him.

"We're alive, but this isn't good," Roeas said again, her eyes fixed on David.

"No, it's not. I'd hoped to finish this before he found us," Qubine gasped, an arm wrapped tightly around his torso. "But I've always wanted to see this, just once. You two might want to clear out now."

Rowen couldn't understand what they were talking about. "I will not leave!"

Qubine looked up at him. "He would never want you to see him like this."

Whether Rowen liked it or not, ideas of unspeakable horror were beginning to form in his head. "So why are you staying?"

"For science?" Qubine chuckled, then coughed. His voice sounded strange, as if there was liquid in his throat. Something might have happened to his lungs. "I just want to see this finished. Rowen..."

David's gun was empty. Instead of reloading, he picked up another one from the floor. Everything he did seemed instinctive, as if there was no conscious thought. He looked unreal, enthralling, absolutely beautiful. The sight of him like this made Rowen's skin prickle, both with fear and excitement.

"If this is what he also is, then I will not look away," he said, reaching for the pillar Qubine was sitting against to steady himself.

"Maybe that's what I did wrong since the beginning."

"What are you talking about?" Rowen frowned at Qubine.

"Nothing of consequence."

Roeas sighed and checked their weapons, fighting through pain every second. "Believe it or not, I know exactly how you feel; if that's Zephyr I'd never leave. But if you stayed it'd make my job very difficult." She emptied Rowen's gun, putting a new clip inside, keeping her eyes on the battle all the while. "Then again, Zephyr probably won't forgive me if I left David here. And I bet you can't walk right now."

Qubine's gaze shifted briefly from David to Roeas when she nudged him with a foot. "I can probably stand. I promise nothing more than that."

"It's decided then. I leave no man behind. We're all staying." When the men bit down a laugh despite themselves, Roeas raised an eyebrow. "It sounded a lot cooler in my head, okay? Shit, I'm turning into Zephyr."

"I can fire you right now, then at least you don't need to worry about me," Rowen offered.

"No thanks, that'd screw up my pension," she said. "Going to check if the exit's clear. You boys go hide if they come too close."

Rowen helped Qubine stand up, just in case they needed to move, and they both leaned against the pillar for support. The soldiers made their sacrifices and Qubine had taken most of the rest of the damage; the fact that he killed Rebecca had made him Sullivan's primary target. At least Rowen was still completely intact. Bruised, yes, but he was faring far better than the others.

David was up in the air, as if he had wings. Sullivan could not get close enough for combat and bullets kept raining towards him, relentless. There was blood on both of them, but Sullivan looked far more affected by his injuries, keeping a hand on his abdomen where an earlier shot from Qubine had ripped open again and now refused to heal.

And then, from a height, David kicked off from a wall and dived towards Sullivan, the two colliding. Rolling on his side, David got up on his feet, one of which he pushed into Sullivan's throat.

By the time David stopped firing, Sullivan was beyond recognition.

 

It was not over.

As soon as David's gaze moved from Sullivan's unmoving body to Rowen and Qubine, and Roeas noticed the safety of his gun was still off, she knew. She didn't need to see the look on David's face, she didn't even need to feel the chaos in his head to know this was far from over.

She screamed his name, but he wasn't listening.

Sullivan wasn't enough for him. He was going to kill everyone.

Perhaps Qubine could tell something was wrong as well. As Roeas ran towards David, knowing she would never be fast enough, Qubine pushed himself off the pillar and moved himself in front of Rowen—

—and then there was a single gunshot. Both men froze, then fell like puppets, a hole through Qubine's head and a hole through Rowen's chest. A bullet buried itself into the stone pillar behind them.

David stopped, then looked at his gun. The weapon which he designed and Qubine made real, powerful enough to take away the people most important to him with one single shot.

He stumbled towards the bodies, and peered down at them. Their eyes were still open. Qubine was smiling. Rowen's face one of incomprehension.

Roeas dragged herself towards David, whispering his name. She knew what he was going to do, she could feel it. But when she got close, David shoved her away with his immense strength.

He put the gun in his mouth and cocked the barrel upwards. He pulled the trigger once, twice, blood spurting from the top of his head with each bullet. He stumbled, blood dripping from his mouth onto the men he'd just killed, but he still stood. He wailed — he couldn't die.

He turned towards the stairs that led to the next, sealed room that housed Basel's greatest secret, throwing his gun at it.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!"

As his voice echoed, Roeas picked herself up. She had to do something, somehow. But David had already found another weapon. The laughter he let out was blood-curdling as he pressed its tip against his temple.

"I WON'T LET YOU WIN."

The next few second seemed to last forever. Before he could pull the trigger, David's body convulsed, the gun falling from his hand. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed, much in the same way as Qubine and Rowen did moments ago.

Rush was at the entrance, a gadget in his hand and tears in his eyes as he surveyed the room.

"I'm too late, aren't I?"


	46. Insufferable

[AR1141, winter/spring]

When David opened his eyes, Rush was sitting beside his bed. The room was dark; it was that awkward hour between day and night that didn't really justify turning the lights on.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" asked Rush, his voice quiet.

"I had the most awful dream. I dreamt that I—"

Pause.

_Qubine._

David sat up, and buried his head in his knees. Sullivan. Qubine trying to shield Rowen, both of them ending up killed by the same bullet. It wasn't just a nightmare. He'd killed them with his own hands.

_Rowen._

"Why did you stop me?" The back of his eyes burned. There was a pulsating pain in his head, as if his skull was being squeezed. "Why did you stop me!"

_Rowen. His face, surprised that the one he loved, the one with whom he was planning a future together, would point a gun at him._

Rush wouldn't let him do it, but it didn't matter. He could do it again. He should never have been alive. He knew that since the beginning. All this time fighting, pretending, and all he ever achieved was make everyone around him suffer.

_Mysterious to the end, Qubine. Why was he smiling?_

He got out of bed, stumbling a few steps until Rush caught hold of him by the arms. He pulled himself free, only to have Rush push him up to a wall, pinning him there despite knowing there was no contest when it came to strength.

_He'd said he would never let anyone touch them._

David let him; Rush couldn't be here forever. Guns and grenades were easy to get. He could even pay someone to take his head off with an axe. He should have done that a long time ago; that had always been his instinct anyway. If he was dead then—

The quartz. He could break the quartz.

"They're alive!"

David froze.

Did Zenith... "You're lying."

"I'm not! You're still alive, aren't you? So are they. So don't be in a hurry to off yourself again."

_They're alive. Alive._

Rush let go, taking a step back. Then he went to the door, which had been left open. "Guys!"

Roeas was the first to respond, appearing in the doorway with her arms in a complicated system of casts and supports. She was bruised, swollen and cut in places. She eyed him, her face as close sympathetic as it would ever get.

"Rowen's at home. He said you should talk to Qubine first."

With that, she turned and left. David caught up with her, recalling how he pushed her away when she tried to save him during those last moments.

"Roeas!" he started, but didn't know how to continue. "I... I'm sorry."

"Say that to my husband."

David felt the top of his head. There was dried blood on his hair. Now he had a scar that most probably matched Zephyr's. Yes, he had a lot of apologising to do.

The rest of his housemates, minus Zephyr, came over and said some comforting things, then left him alone, knowing David needed some time right now. He sat down, took the telephone and put it in front of him, and stared at it.

What was he going to say?

He picked up the receiver and dialled. If he tried to figure out his words first he would never make the call.

"Hello?"

It was Rowen's voice. He really was still alive.

"Rowen."

A short pause. "David."

He covered his eyes with a hand. He should've known that the tears would start as soon as he heard Rowen's voice. "I'm so sorry," he gasped, "I'm so sorry!"

"I'm still alive. No damage done."

How could Rowen say that?

"I... I owe you an explanation."

"Yes."

"Can I come and see you?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Ah..." Of course, why would Rowen ever want to see him again?

"Word got out that I survived a shot through the heart. My house is surrounded by a crowd twenty deep at the moment, I doubt you can even get close." Rowen sighed. "David, please stop crying. I can't bear to hear you like this, especially when I can't be there to comfort you."

Rowen wasn't angry? "I thought I'd killed you! I..."

"But you hadn't. And I can tell you never wanted to do any of this; you're a victim of something Sullivan had done. All I want is for you to trust me, and tell me everything."

David didn't know how to react, so he started laughing. How ridiculous was this? He didn't deserve a man like Rowen. He didn't deserve to be alive. Perhaps he should be thankful to Zenith for giving him a second chance.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," David sniffed, trying to calm his voice. "But I'd rather not do this over the phone."

"I'll find a way to see you. Perhaps I can go and visit Roeas."

"Okay..."

"For now, there are other people you need to talk to. Have you contacted Qubine yet?"

The mention of that name made David uncomfortable. He still hadn't found out about Qubine's true intentions. "How can you think that the first thing I did after waking up wasn't to call you?"

Well, apart from trying to kill himself again. Thank god for Rush.

"You're right. I apologise. But you should talk to him."

"I know." If only to thank him for trying to save Rowen, David would have to talk to Qubine. He dreaded the idea, now that he no longer knew where they stood with each other.

After the call ended, David put the phone back, and wiped his eyes. This was fine. Rowen was fine. David would tell him what he wanted to know, then he could decide what he wanted to do from there. Things might change forever from here on, but Rowen was alive and he could not ask for more.

But he wasn't ready for a conversation with Qubine right now. What he should do was go upstairs and talk to Zephyr.

That plan was abandoned when he saw Rush in his room, leaning against a wall, his face buried in his hands.

Oh, Rush.

He went over to him, and said the same thing he said to Rowen. "I'm so sorry. About everything."

Rush shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You're not. Rush, talk to me."

"It's not..." said Rush, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, and dropped his hands. "When I got there, I used the switch, but I saw you were already bleeding, and everyone was on the floor, and I thought I was too late. Then after a minute Qubine and Rowen started moving, but you didn't, and I thought it's because you already shot yourself and then I pressed the switch and you weren't going to come around because of that."

Rush thought he'd killed David, just like David thought he'd killed Rowen. Rowen had reassured him, now it was his turn to reassure Rush.

"I'm just relieved, that's all."

"You saved me again. I'm sorry I made you go through all that." David forced a chuckle. "Thinking about it, it was more exciting the first time we met, wasn't it? I straddled you before putting the gun in my mouth that time."

"Just stop trying to fucking kill yourself. I'm gonna quit caring, I swear. I can't take much more of this. Fucking insufferable bastard."

"Fine. Next time I do it I'll make sure the job's done properly, then you won't have to go through it again."

Rush punched him in the gut, hard.

Bending forward in pain, David rested his forehead on Rush's shoulder. Right, he deserved that. Hopefully it made Rush feel better too.

"You've been waiting to do that for years, haven't you?" he asked, coughing. Rush literally did not pull his punch. "I'm the worst friend anyone could possibly have."

He moved back slightly when Rush pushed him on the shoulder to hold him at arm's length. Then a fist connected with his jaw. Not expecting this, he stumbled to one side, tasting blood in his mouth.

" _That's_ what I've wanted to do for years," said Rush, cracking his knuckles. "And you're the shittiest friend in the world. But you're my best mate so shuddup."

"Rush..." David's vision was fuzzy. That really hurt. "I..."

"Uh-huh!" Rush raised a finger and gave him a disapproving look. "One more word from you and you're getting a left hook as well."

"I love you."

He closed his eyes just before the other side of his face received the same treatment. Oh, now he could see stars.

"You damn fairy!"

David watched Rush, face flushed, storm out of the room and heading straight for the front door, and laughed despite the burning pain in his jaw.

"Ha! Pot and kettle!"

 

Zephyr was alone on the roof, reading the Scriptures. The street lamps weren't on yet and it should be too dark for reading, but that wasn't a problem for him. Nor was it for David, when Zephyr pulled out something from the last page and handed it to him when he approached.

It was a photograph of Zephyr's younger sister.

"She had a huge crush on you," said Zephyr, closing the book. "Kept saying she was gonna marry you when she grew up."

She was a tiny thing, with the same delicate features and slight build as her brother. It was obvious even back then that the siblings were never going to grow very tall, but nobody could have guessed she was never going to grow up at all.

"That would've been problematic," David said with a sad smile.

"As if I'd let someone like you marry her." Zephyr took the picture back.

"Zephyr..."

"Roeas told me you're seeing Rowen and you shot both him and Qubine, then turned the gun on yourself."

"I lost it completely as soon as I saw Sullivan. I couldn't stop myself."

"Well, Sullivan's dead. They lobbed his head off and burned the body to make sure."

Qubine's idea, probably. Or was he there to see Sullivan and David just barged in?

"Good to know."

"I guess if I thought I'd killed Roeas, I'd try to kill myself as well."

Was that all? Zephyr wasn't going to get mad about David breaking their pact?

"By the way, what the hell happened to your face?" Zephyr squinted.

David wondered if his jaw was swollen; it felt like it was. "Payback from Rush."

The words made Zephyr think. Then he lifted his leg, and before David knew what was going on, there was a foot on his stomach and the push sent him flying halfway across the roof.

"That's for breaking the pact and shoving Roeas!" Zephyr shouted.

Damn. That was right where Rush had punched him earlier, too. David got the feeling he was going to be everyone's punchbag today. Or maybe forever.

After that, he talked to Paris and Jean Paulet on the phone, who both heard he was injured but were snowed under by the work related to the attack two days ago — apparently that was how long David slept for — and could not visit. Charlotte interrupted to say that the cafe was already open for business as usual and David must get back to work or he would be fired.

No surprises there. Routine was important for Charlotte and she would want to help promote a sense of steadfastness and normalcy. Even if this happened just before her wedding she'd make sure it went ahead as planned.

Word got around. The phone calls started and didn't stop for a while: Rush's family, Juris, and even Paris's mother took their turns to coo over David until finally, Pater's voice filtered down the receiver.

"David! Oh, it took me forever to get through!"

David chuckled. "Sorry about that. Everyone's being very kind and calling to check on me."

"But of course they would! You protected Cardinal Rowen! Thank you so much!"

So that was the official story? David didn't really know how to respond. "I hardly did anything... Rowen still got shot."

"But God protected him, so it's okay! He's, like, a living saint for Basel!"

God. Even if Pater was thinking of a different god, that was indeed what happened. And people's faith were cemented by this. Was this all part of Zenith's calculations?

If there was one man who might get close to knowing the answer, it was Qubine.

"I'm just glad he's fine," said David. "How is your brother?"

"He's been at Cardinal Antourion's since yesterday. He was back for dinner earlier, but went over there again after."

That wasn't a surprise at all, but it still made David furrow his brows. "He needs to take it easy and stay home for a while."

"Right? I said that to him! It turns out he disappeared all this time to monitor the attack, but he still doesn't come home now that it's over. Do you think he might be hiding something?"

"A girlfriend, maybe?" said David, evaluating Pater's words. The story seemed plausible, and as for hiding — ah, of course, Qubine didn't want Pater to know about the injuries. This was one act David was definitely willing to play along to. "It's about time."

"Oh, I don't know..." Uncharacteristically, Pater let his voice drift off and didn't finish his sentence. "But he's always been a bit strange! I'm sure he's fine!"

Sometimes David wondered how much Pater knew, and how often he just pretended naivety. Maybe he was just as good an actor as Qubine.

David decided he didn't need to know the truth to this particular mystery.

After the chat with Pater, the flood of phone calls seemed to be over, and David joined his housemates for dinner. Zephyr looked like he quite enjoyed helping Roeas eat but Roeas definitely didn't like the idea of being fed, even by her husband. Somehow the blame for her broken arms landed on David even though he had nothing to do with it.

"Everybody's been punching and kicking me today, so if you're going to do it, might as well get it over and done with now."

"Believe me, I would, but I don't want to lose my job."

"I think he's more professional than that." David finished his slice of pizza. It felt weird to be eating the same thing as the night he died, but that was what they had in the freezer. "In any case, it probably won't be a problem for much longer."

She eyed him, pulling away from the food Zephyr was holding in front of her for a moment. "I wouldn't exactly call it a 'problem'. And you're being more pessimistic than necessary."

He shrugged.

After dinner, he asked to be left alone. He'd stalled for long enough, it was time to talk to Qubine.

"Before you do that," Roeas suddenly said, pausing on the stairs' landing on her way up to her room, "do you want to know what happened before you got to the Basilica?"

 

"Qubine, it's David."

"Oh, my murderer. How delightful of you to call," Qubine said. "I've been waiting to say that."

David could see the humour in it, but he wasn't in the mood to laugh. "What are you doing at Antourion's?"

The reply was swift. "To bang his books and read his maid, of course. Hold on, let me just tuck my penis back in." The sound of a page being turned.

Fine, points to Qubine. This was funny. "How're your injuries?"

"All healed, along with the head wound; Zenith did a great job. I do have surgery in half an hour, however."

David's heart skipped a beat. "Surgery? At this time of day? What for?"

"Purely for cosmetic reasons. Bullet scars on my head may be considered debonair by some, but they are very inconvenient. Might also get the one in my side removed while I'm there."

Debonair. Qubine had been talking to Jean Paulet too much. "You can just leave your hair down to cover them."

Qubine laughed. "So that's why you shot me? To force me to change how I wear my hair?"

"Yes, that's exactly why. No one needs to see that face of yours."

"You could be a little kinder; you did put a bullet through my head."

"It's not as if it killed you."

"And apparently it couldn't kill you either. I suppose that proves Zenith's power can override the weapon I designed."

" _You_ designed? Excuse me?"

"Well." It looked like Qubine wanted to skip over this point. "You did recover from it far more quickly than Rowen or me."

They saw what happened towards the end, then? The thought filled David with horror. "I thought you were both dead."

"I'm glad Rush arrived in time. I must say I am impressed by the implant."

"You're not the only one who likes to be well prepared. But you two shouldn't have been there to witness it."

"It wasn't such a terrible thing that you shot Rowen. His leadership ensured Basel's safety and he survived a shot through the heart. Right now his approval rating is so high he can do no wrong. If you two want to go public, now is the perfect time."

It was an idea, but everything depended on whether or not Rowen could still accept David. "Maybe. We'll see."

Silence, then another turn of a page. 

"Thanks for putting yourself in front of Rowen."

"I didn't do it for you."

What a typical Qubine response. "Well, thank you anyway." According to Roeas, Qubine went to the Basilica to fight Sullivan. Sullivan asked after Qubine's mother, and then accused him of killing her. Qubine, in his usual fashion, never admitted nor denied anything.

What was all that supposed to mean?

"What were you doing at the Basilica?"

"I had a bone to pick with Sullivan. For what he did to my family."

"And you've known about my background all along."

When David fought Sullivan with all that he had, Qubine told Rowen and Roeas to leave because "he would never want you to see him like this," but Qubine would stay behind because he "wanted to see this finished."

Rowen said he wouldn't look away from what David was, and Qubine responded by saying perhaps that was what he did wrong at the start. Did that mean he regretted not having said anything in the beginning? 

"That had nothing to do with why I went to see Sullivan, but I do, yes. Paris told me you got quite upset when you found out." said Qubine casually. "Everything was my idea. Paris and Rush aren't at fault."

David waited, but Qubine left it at that.

"That's it? You aren't going to say anything to defend yourself?"

"You don't need my excuses, and apologies are just words."

David tipped his head back, a fist punching hard on the sofa. "Stop being so infuriating and talk to me!"

He could hear pages being flicked through. "What do you want to hear?"

He was toying with him; there was no way Qubine didn't know what David wanted. "The truth!"

"That's not necessary. You have already decided on what the truth is."

David had rarely ever felt so enraged that he couldn't even speak. But then Qubine let out a soft sigh.

"That came out wrong. It shouldn't have sounded so accusatory."

In the past, whenever something like this happened David would not be able to help but laugh and find Qubine adorable. But not anymore. Had Qubine changed, or was it David?

"The truth is whatever helps you move past this. There is nothing more that I can give you." Qubine closed his book. "What you want to do with what you have... it's your choice. The only thing I ask is that you keep all of this from Pater."

"What?"

"I need to head to the clinic. Take care, David."

"Qubine!"


	47. Aftermath

[AR1141, winter/spring]

David heard the news directly from Rowen before the rumours started: the Church was considering ordaining Rowen as the new Prelate.

On the phone, Rowen sounded quite calm about it, but something just didn't feel right and David couldn't tell what it was. It had been almost a week since the battle on Chandelier and they hadn't had the chance to meet yet, perhaps that was why. David dreaded having to tell Rowen about the past but if Rowen wanted the truth, then he would get it.

David refused to be like Qubine.

"It's something that has been in the pipeline for a couple of years, but I never thought it would become a serious consideration. It seems like what happened in the Basilica is acting as a catalyst to push it forward. Partly because of the gunshot, partly because Basel desperately needs more unity after an event like that."

"I see," said David. He wanted to ask if that would affect their relationship. but he wasn't even sure if they still had one at this point. He hoped so; during the fight with Sullivan, Rowen had refused to leave and didn't look away. "Is it something you want?"

A soft, almost inaudible sigh. "I will never be able to do what Freida managed."

Prelate Freida. This was the first time David actually heard Rowen say her name. She was something of a legend to those who knew and remembered her. David was of a generation who grew up without ever having laid eyes on the late Prelate, but he had heard plenty of stories; the older staff at Paris's manor like to talk about the golden days, when Basel was full of hope.

Deep down, David believed Basel was not better in the past than it was now. Freida might have been an inspirational person, but during her time the state of Basel's disrepair and draining resources were overlooked, that was all.

He knew better than to say that out loud, though.

"David?"

"Hmm? I was just thinking you didn't actually answer my question."

"I..." Rowen quieted down for a moment. David could imagine him staring at his own reflection in the mirror in the bedroom, his eyes fixed on the ring on his finger. "I have a promise to keep."

That still wasn't really an answer, but it was enough to tell David what Rowen's choice would be if the offer was made. Before, Rowen had said he would give up his job as a cardinal for David if necessary, but David got the impression that prelacy was an entirely different matter. It had been more than twenty years since her death, and Freida was still more important to Rowen than David was.

He knew better than to say that out loud, as well.

"I suppose all you can do is wait for the Church's decision, then."

"They should have it by tonight the earliest."

"Wow, that's efficiency previously unheard of."

Rowen chuckled. It was rude of David to mock but nobody could deny there was an element of truth to what he said.

"David, could you come by tonight?"

"What time?" David hoped his voice didn't sound as tight as his chest suddenly felt.

"Come for dinner. Arrive a bit earlier and come in with the cook. The crowds are gone, but just in case."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

 

David didn't have much of an appetite but he ate anyway.

Rowen did notice he was staring at the dinner somewhat mournfully, though. "If you don't like it..."

David gave him a "don't be ridiculous" look. Food was not for wasting, especially when it was cooked for him. He ploughed the rest of the dinner into his mouth, then waited for Rowen to finish.

Eventually Rowen put down his cutlery. "David..."

"I'm sorry, can we get this over and done with?"

"This is hurting you. If you'd—"

Rowen was going to change his mind. David wasn't.

"Come on."

They sat down on the sofa in the living room, David picking the far end, and turned away from Rowen. He couldn't do this if he could see Rowen's face; he would lose his nerve.

When he did this with Paris years ago, David didn't know nearly as much as he did now. The conversation with Vashyron was quite simple, all he really had to say was that he and Zephyr shared much of the same background. This was the first time he tried to tell someone the truth — or what he knew as the truth, depending on whether or not the information from Qubine could be trusted — in its entirety.

For the first time, he recounted the events and everything he knew, from start to finish. The experiments that lead to the Cranktown Massacre. Finding out about Zenith. His own survival. Battles with his instinct. The times when he lost control. When Rowen didn't understand, David clarified. He gave all the details he could remember to the man whom he had shot in the heart.

When he finished, he heard Rowen get up and moving away for a minute. Then a mug of tea appeared by his side.

David sipped it. A dash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar. Rowen knew how he liked his tea.

"All of this," Rowen began, his voice tight, the shadow he cast overlapping with David's, "happened on my watch."

"By that logic, if Garigliano went mad and stabbed someone, would that be your fault too?" David stared into his tea. "Don't be so egocentric. This is about me, not you."

Silence. Rowen sat down again.

"Rowen, please say something. Should I stay, or should I leave? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Rowen said quietly, as if he didn't trust his own voice, "I now understand why you said you have certain issues. Why you picked your current lifestyle. Why you weren't angry with Veronique. I... am honoured that you trust me with the truth."

"I did shoot you." David chuckled. Those were interesting observations, but Rowen wouldn't be able to circle around the main issue for very long.

"The sight of you taking your own life haunts me, David."

"At the time it felt like it was the only thing I could and wanted to do."

"By that, do you mean you were aware of what you were doing?"

"Yes. It's not as if there is another person living in my head. It's all me. I knew who you were. I knew I loved you. But I wanted to kill you anyway." David wondered if he would be able to explain this. "Think of it as... it's like someone who was having a very bad day. They'd shout at people and pick fights... whereas I just want to kill. This really isn't making me sound any better, but in essence I'm a psychopath."

When Rowen said nothing again for a while, David turned around, and found him smiling.

"You've never said it before."

"It's not a side of me I'm particularly proud of, surprisingly. But I'm sorry for keeping all of this from you until now."

"I mean you've never told me you loved me before."

David blinked, then dipped his head to hide his smile whilst he put down his mug. "That's not the part you're supposed to be focusing on." He said it in his head a lot, but never out loud. Words like those were nice to hear, but also burdening. He never wanted to force Rowen to make a decision he didn't want out of a sense of obligation.

Even now.

"In summary: I love you, but I'm crazy." David made himself smile again. "I think it's crunch time."

He kept smiling even when Rowen didn't smile back.

A hand reached for the tea. Rowen blew on it, then took a gulp.

"The conclave called just before you arrived. If I accept, then I will be announced as Freida's successor during the Feast of the Prelate."

"Congratulations." David wasn't sure if Rowen was happy about it, but that seemed like the right thing to say. "There is a reason why you're bringing that up right this moment, I guess."

"What... would happen if you stopped being a hunter?"

Was Rowen trying to imply something? "I think I want to know the reason behind that question before giving you an answer."

Rubbing one hand in another, Rowen looked thoughtful and ever so slightly annoyed. "It would be incongruent as a profession for a prelate's partner. But if—"

"I can quit!"

If Rowen could accept him even after listening to all that, there was absolutely no way David would let this go.

"But you said your work is essential in helping you stay balanced. Therefore: what would happen if you stopped?"

There seemed to be almost a hint of fear in Rowen's concern. David couldn't say he blamed him. "I managed okay living at Paris's for a few years. I could use the arena whenever I need. I could do more work for Charlotte or do what Roeas does and be a bodyguard. Or is that still too...?"

"That should be fine. But are you sure?"

David looked at Rowen in the eye.

"Are _you_ sure?"

 

It took a little while but David finally managed to get hold of Jean Paulet, whose diocese was not on Chandelier and therefore didn't suffer damages, but he still had quite a few related issues to deal with.

"So we refined the evacuation procedure for the medical facilities and retirement housing, but I hope we won't ever have to do that again!"

David nodded, pouring coffee for his friend. It was one of Charlotte's blends, but they were at the manor rather than the cafe.

"After that, there were the other discussions... say, mon ami, have you heard..."

Jean Paulet drifted off, not quite willing to be the first one to disclose the information if David hadn't found out yet. David nodded. "About Rowen? Yes he told me."

"I really don't know how that would impact you, so I voted for what I think is best for Basel..."

Oh, those puppy eyes. David chuckled. "It's fine, that's your job. I can't say for sure yet but it looks like he will accept. We'll just have to adapt and... it should be fine."

On the table, Jean Paulet's fingers brushed the back of David's hand. "Are you sure?"

Having spent his life either being ignored or trying not to catch too much attention, it would feel crazy to have the world's attention on him all of a sudden, something David had no doubt would happen. But the novelty would wear off eventually. On top of all that, Qubine was right, Rowen's public confidence rating was so high right now that even if he took on a much younger lover, someone who apparently helped save lives during the attack, the world might just be fine with it.

And thanks to some strange luck, he was on good terms with quite a few cardinals so hopefully they would help him out where necessary.

Speaking of which. "I'm sure. We're sure. But I'm going to need a new job."

"Come and work for me!"

When Jean Paulet stood up and slammed the table with both hands, everything on it jumped, and David too.

"What do you mean?"

"My security consultant wants to leave; he's having children. You can have his job! It's just two days a week but it's a start?"

That sounded perfect. Suspiciously so. "Really?"

"Oui. In fact he's only staying until I find a replacement and I wanted to ask you a while ago, but Qubine told me not to," said Jean Paulet, who shrugged when David frowned. "He said you like being a hunter but you'd be too nice to say no to me."

It sounded just like the sort of observation Qubine would make. And he did make a very good point. Whether or not he said it out of genuine concern for David or only for his own benefit, though, was anyone's guess.

"Well, the situation's changed. If you're seriously making an offer, then I'd love to work for you."

What came next was no surprise: Jean Paulet moved away from his seat and began his trademark spins.

"Parfait! Magnifique!" he laughed. "Oh, I can't wait to see Qubine's face when he finds out!"

Qubine would have called it incestuous, and again David would have corrected him and said it was nepotism. And this time David would even be right, since he and Jean Paulet would be family once their siblings got married.

But unlike Jean Paulet, the thought of Qubine no longer made David smile. "Have you spoken to him since the Chandelier attack?"

Jean Paulet paused his dancing. "He was here for tea yesterday. I couldn't get hold of you, so I assumed you were at Rowen's."

He was. David didn't mind not being included. In fact, if the absence and unreturned phone calls were anything to go by, then Qubine didn't want to see David right now. Or perhaps ever again.

Sensing a problem, Jean Paulet sat down again. "You know, mon ami, you never told me what happened on the night before the attack, when I found you standing in the middle of the road. I thought it was something to do with Rush but... now I wonder."

Jean Paulet was dramatic and quite silly sometimes, but he was definitely far from stupid. David shook his head. "Rush and I are fine... we're fine now."

In fact, David still couldn't believe Rush had come to his rescue at the Basilica even after the accusations that were thrown at him. What a friend.

But Qubine...

"Tell me what happened."

David shook his head. The process of telling Rowen about his past was difficult, but when it was done he felt liberated. But Jean Paulet was different. David didn't want his friend to feel like he was stuck in the middle of all this and had to pick a side. This would be too harsh a thing to do.

"No. I can't get you involved." 

"If you don't want to say anything, that's fair enough. But if you do, then tell me, David. Trust that I can make my own judgements if I must, I'm stronger than my height would have you believe, and I may already know more than you think I do."

Those words didn't sound like they came from Jean Paulet's mouth, not just because he mentioned his short stature. In contrast to just a few moments ago, he looked solemn, determined. David found his resolve weakening.

"Who are you and what have you done to JP?" he asked with feeble smile.

"I'm just tired of being ignorant."

"This is my fault. If it wasn't for me..."

"When the citizens have problems, I don't turn a blind eye. And I shan't do that to my friends either," said Jean Paulet.

David sighed, and dipped his head. "Then what do you already know?"

Jean Paulet's voice softened. "Bits and pieces that led up to the Crank Seminary Disaster."

How did he find out?

David had to forcibly stop himself from just losing it. If this meant his past wasn't completely buried, then he could never have a future with Rowen.

But if Jean Paulet already knew that much, then he might as well learn the whole story.

With his face hidden in his arms, David began.

 

He didn't see Rowen's initial reaction when he told the same story just the day before, but even so, David could still tell Jean Paulet was not reacting to it in quite the same way.

"You really already knew some of that."

"Oui." Jean Paulet reached for David's wrists, grasping them. They were trembling a little; knowing part of the truth beforehand didn't mean he wasn't affected. "I understand it's difficult, and you might think I'm taking sides, but I'll say it anyway: I think you should trust Qubine."

David lifted his gaze from the table to his friend. "Your reason?"

"I..." The hands holding David slacken a little. "I can't begin to imagine your shock when you found out he'd known about you all these years. But... do you truly think he is wicked?"

No. Qubine was socially incompetent, but he always had a way of changing the conversation and rescuing David from a tight spot when necessary. He did a lot of work for his friends and for Basel without asking for anything in return or even taking credit. He monitored the outside situation for Rowen — who had to keep this a top secret from his own fellow cardinals and even David until now — and looked for ways to protect Basel. Even if he did see David as an experiment, he had never mistreated him the way other scientists had.

David gave a meek shake of his head. "But now I'm questioning everything he's ever told me. I don't know who he is anymore. I don't know what his motives are. Everyone has something different to say about him, even Sullivan..."

Could Sullivan's words about Qubine's mother be true?

"Mon ami, whatever he might or might not have done in the past, let it go. God will be his judge when the time comes."

Jean Paulet knew.

David pulled his hands away gently. Had this friend kept a lot from him as well? "How come you know so much already?"

It was Jean Paulet's turn to give a weak smile. "Last year, soon after your unsuccessful confession to Qubine, someone came to look for me at the penance booth. That is all I'm allowed to tell you. And that is why you shouldn't worry that anyone else might find out."

For a few moments, David was stunned to silence. It was true then, Qubine's mother's death was not an accident, and Jean Paulet knew what he knew because he was told by Qubine himself, who was smart enough to do it in a situation where Jean Paulet would always be bound by his faith to keep it a secret.

How was that even possible? Qubine, killing his own mother?

"You remember that not long ago, I told you to stop thinking that you aren't good enough for others and you're not worth anyone's time. Well, I visited our dear friend at his manor some time after that someone came for the rites of penance, and he was just like you and me. He thought we shouldn't be friends anymore because he didn't deserve friendship, that silly man. I managed to talk some sense into him, fortunately."

"And did he tell you why he did all the things he'd done?" David asked, and Jean Paulet looked away. "Or did someone only explain that in penance as well?"

It certainly wasn't because of an unrelenting sense of justice. If that was the case, there was no need for Qubine to hide from him now.

"Not during penance," Jean Paulet said, his eyes still averted. "And I don't want to lie to you and say I don't have the faintest clue. But it's better for you to not find out."

Up until this point, David had managed to keep his calm, but not anymore. "How is that better for me? If I don't know why, how do you expect me to ever trust him again?"

Jean Paulet clearly had not expected a response like that, and David almost regretted shouting when he saw his friend grimace, but he wasn't going to apologise for what he felt he made a good point in.

"It's not an easy judgement call to make. But surely you know that sometimes the whole truth is not what's best — you left out some details in your story, for example. There were gaps where things didn't quite add up."

"That's..." David should have known Jean Paulet would pick up on that. But any talk about Zenith would destroy his faith and implicate Rowen. "That's because it'd hurt other people."

"Similarly, learning Qubine's motives would affect the lives of some people in a bad way."

"What people? My past doesn't need any more people involved in it! If there are other people, then I need to know who they are!" David stood up, his chair screeching against the floor, then toppling backwards with a crash. "I need proof! I want him to stop hiding from me and explain himself! What's he doing now, going around telling everyone about it maybe?"

"It's not like that. Oh, David." Jean Paulet got up, walked around the table and pulled David into a firm hug. "This is difficult for all of us. Please, at the very least, believe that I want the best for you, even if that means facing your wrath for not telling you everything. You don't need anything or anyone holding you back. You're happy now, with Rowen. You're going to lead a new life with him. You'll finally have happiness."

The heart against David's chest was beating frantically. David wouldn't have noticed what was happening had he not heard his friend's voice crack just before he finished his sentence. Instantly David felt guilty for raising his voice again.

"JP..."

Jean Paulet wiped his eyes. "I'm fine. After everything that's happened, it's normal for you to suspect. I don't know if there'll ever be a way to prove to you that he never meant you any harm, but maybe even this is better for you... for moving on..."

"What in the world do you mean by that?"

"Just that both Qubine and I love you very, very much."

 

Judging by the fact that she didn't ask to take his coat and simply led him down the hall, the maid must have got used to receiving these impromptu visits by now. Jean Paulet wondered if she wasn't bothering to ask Qubine if he was willing to receive visitors anymore, or if Qubine had told her Jean Paulet was always welcome. Probably the latter. The thought of this actually made Jean Paulet feel almost mournful, because his friend certainly was not willing to see David at all.

Then again, if he was Qubine, he would probably do the same.

He was shown into a room where Qubine was sitting on some kind of furry hide on the floor, beside a lit fire. Wearing a lab coat over his pyjamas, he was reading from a stack of files and notes.

Jean Paulet declined the maid's offer to make tea and invited himself to sit opposite Qubine on the rug. Qubine gave him a cursory glance. He looked exhausted, as if his very soul had been drained from him.

"For a cardinal, you have a surprising amount of leisure time."

"Says he, whose cardinal brother is an author of a superhero comic," said Jean Paulet, putting his shoes aside. "What are you doing?"

"Going through David's notes." One file done, Qubine put it aside and reached for another.

"Pourquoi?"

"To see what I can get rid of."

Jean Paulet quieted down and just watched his friend for a bit. Qubine didn't spend very much time reading, clearly he already knew it all by heart. Occasionally he would pause, then move on again.

When he had looked through another three sets of documents, he stopped, his eyes on the fire instead.

"I meant to throw all of this in there," he muttered.

But he hadn't. Jean Paulet waited for him to continue.

"But these are still scientific breakthroughs, no matter how it was done."

"Do you think one day Basel will need them?" Even as the question left his mouth, Jean Paulet knew it was like asking Qubine to look into a crystal ball and tell the future. In his personal opinion, these research should be erased forever, but he had learned long ago that he wasn't always right. "Try thinking out loud, it tends to work for me."

"That's because you're a moron."

"And you're an imbécile."

Qubine snorted.

"If burning them goes against your instinct as a scientist, why did you take them here to begin with?"

Qubine squinted, as if the heat from the fire had made his eyes go dry, and began to sort the files, still not meeting Jean Paulet's gaze. He busied himself for a little while, piling folders and bound documents into a tall stack beside him. Then he paused and, in a manner very uncharacteristic of him, leaned back, lowering himself onto the rug. He covered his eyes with the back of his hand, knocking the tower of files over in the process, sending confidential paperwork sliding across the rug and carpet.

"I've failed. I couldn't undo what was done, and I couldn't kill Sullivan. And David almost died." he said. "All this time, and I did not manage to do anything for him. Anything at all."

Years of obsessively working towards one goal had yielded nothing but anger and distrust from the very person he wanted to protect. Not that Jean Paulet approved of murder, but he could understand Qubine's frustration. Or maybe he couldn't understand; he would never be able to scratch even just the surface of it.

"You've saved the world he's living in. And you're his friend. That alone has already helped him through the years."

"But I'm no longer his friend."

Jean Paulet couldn't come up with a response. Qubine did everything out of love, but he couldn't let David know about it now that David was ready to start a new life, a new future with Rowen. So Qubine could only resign to the role of the villain.

What could one say to a man whose heart was so completely broken? Qubine once said "if he's happy that's enough for me," but where did that leave him?

"You're a good man, mon ami... you'll find someone else."

Qubine laughed as if he'd just heard something totally absurd. "I don't want anyone," he said. "All I want is to be able to close my eyes... and rest..."

Jean Paulet didn't even want to ask when it was the last time his friend had slept through the night. The reply would probably horrify him. "I don't have any answer for you, but you know you can always talk about it with me... well you're already doing so."

"I thought I'd try a little honesty, but it's terrible. I hate it."

"But would you like me to do the same in return?"

"Isn't that your strong point? Together with your lack of discretion?"

"Merci for that fair assessment." How mean. "I think you need to see someone. Not in the relationship sort of sense."

"You mean a doctor. The kind who would ask me to talk. I hate talking."

And Qubine couldn't say anything to most people, Jean Paulet realised. Therapy wasn't an option for the man whose problem was connected with Basel's dirtiest secrets. But even in this state, he was still a practical man.

"I've ordered medication. It'll get here soon."

This was not the kind of information Qubine would have told Jean Paulet in the past, if he had done it before. Honesty borne out of need. Qubine was right, it was terrible. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"Anything is better than seeing him turn the gun on himself every time I'm about to fall asleep."

Jean Paulet stood up and left his friend for a moment to get a servant to bring them some mulled wine, then carried it inside the room himself.

"Try something warm and alcoholic," he said, sitting down closer to his friend. "It's only a temporary solution. I've warned your maid, if you pick up a habit you'll be switched to honey and warmed milk."

Eyes still hidden under his arm, Qubine sighed. "The controller of hot beverages. I knew she's a dangerous character." Slowly he pushed himself to sit up. "But it's preferable to having to talk to you."

Qubine's eyes were bright red and the back of his hand moist with tears. Jean Paulet carefully kept his gaze slightly lowered.

"Tchin-tchin."

After two glasses consumed in mostly silence, Qubine lay down again, turning onto his side, with his back to Jean Paulet. "Tell me about something boring."

It only took twenty minutes of describing Garigliano's latest exhibition for Qubine's breathing to even, and he drifted off into sleep. Jean Paulet couldn't tell what kind of dreams his friend might have, or for how long this personal peace would last, but this was all he could do.

He and the maid got some blankets and pillows for Qubine, and made sure everything was far enough away from the fire. He put all the paperwork in Qubine's room.

"Keep an eye on him. If anything worries you, contact me," he said to the maid. "And I know this is a lot to ask of you, but please leave Pater out of this, for the good of all concerned."

She bowed.

"Thank you." Jean Paulet turned to go leave. He had to go home now, but maybe he could feign sickness and come and stay with Qubine for a day or two. Or he could talk to Rowen about this first, Rowen was an understanding man. And even if he wasn't, surely he knew what a bad idea it would be to leave the best scientist in Basel alone in the grips of depression.

The cure would be such a simple one, but it was impossible to get.

None of this was David's fault, but Jean Paulet had never been more angry with his dearest friend in his life.


	48. Tough

[AR1141, winter/spring]

Nora answered the door. Vashyron had a few jokes ready but decided to keep his trap shut after seeing her.

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you didn't feel well."

"I'm never going to that kebab shop again," she said, looking a little surprised when Vashyron tossed something at her. She read the box: medication to relieve the symptoms of food poisoning. "Hey, thanks."

"Well, since I was down there anyway." Vashyron dropped his coat on a chair. "You got the details?"

Nora dragged herself to the dining table and began to look through piles of junk mail, receipts and other bits of paper. "It's going to Level 3. Confidential delivery." She pulled out a piece of paper, shoving it at Vashyron. "Here."

Vashyron frowned a little. "I don't remember seeing this in the book... and you know I always go for the confidential stuff."

"That's because you're a nosy bastard. The buff dude passed this one straight to me, it didn't go in the book."

He read the piece of paper, then gave it back to Nora together with the things he had fetched from the medicine storage down at The Freezer in her place.

"You're gonna have to do the final mile, I wasn't supposed to touch this job. Got mutual friends and stuff."

"Huh, is that why it came to me? Guess I'm good enough to go up there. How do you wanna split the pay?"

"70-30?"

"Rather generous of you. But if you're sure."

"So... when you feel better, wanna go out for dinner some time?"

Vashyron received the most disgusted look he had seen for a long time, but it hardly deterred him.

"Come on!"

She hesitated before speaking. "I eat like a horse."

"And I'm hung like one. What a coincidence, eh?"

Vashyron left Nora's place without a promise of a date, but also without the mark of having just been slapped across the face. One could probably call that a good sign.

He was almost home when a thought came to him and he headed to the next street instead, stepping inside a building he normally never visited: the library. It didn't take him too long to find a book that told him what the medications he had got from the cold storage were for.

Well, confidential meant confidential and telling might get Nora into trouble. Even if David's best friend was taking sleeping pills and antidepressants, it wasn't Vashyron's business to tell anyone. Probably.

 

They hadn't talked to each other in a work-related context since the battle, but one day Rowen received a note from Qubine saying he wished to take some time off before going back to work. It was a notion previously unheard of from the workaholic, but Rowen wrote back saying he thought it was a good idea and he wished Qubine well.

From what Jean Paulet said, Qubine was rather poorly at the moment, though he didn't elaborate on what he meant by "poorly" and Rowen didn't think it was appropriate to ask. Pater seemed oblivious to all of this, which made Rowen wonder just how much Jean Paulet knew. Perhaps he should ask David about this.

In any case, Rowen gave the go-ahead for Jean Paulet to work shorter days as long as he delegated and his work got done. He could hardly blame Qubine or criticise Jean Paulet when he himself was leaning heavily on Veronique recently for support. She hadn't mentioned her transfer request again and Rowen knew she was still waiting for a suitable replacement so that she could leave. But for now, he was glad she was there.

This was hugely unfair on David. If he minded, he didn't say anything, but Rowen knew far better than to take that as approval.

"I need to go home and pick up a change of clothes first. You go ahead, I'll be there soon."

They stopped briefly outside Café Charlotte. David seemed relaxed when he spoke. A bit too deliberately relaxed, in fact.

"You've got clothes at mine," said Rowen.

"But I don't want to wear those ones," said David, who smiled when Rowen sighed at him. "You know I'm a fashion whore."

Rowen conceded, and started his journey home by himself. Earlier on at the cafe David had flinched away when Rowen tried to take his hand, and now he didn't want to be seen going to Rowen's house together. David said he was sure he wanted their future to be spent together, but going public was probably still too huge a step for him right now. That was fine, they could do this as slowly as David was comfortable with.

At least, that was what Rowen hoped the problem was.

 

He jerked awake when Rowen gasped and bolted upright all of a sudden.

Again.

In the dark, David watched Rowen's trembling hand feeling the bullet scar on his chest, fingers brushing on the ring of raised skin and flesh. Then he looked at David, and the holster belt David had left on the windowsill.

He'd put it where Rowen could see it, but next time he should leave it with the guards at the gate, David decided. Rowen hadn't mentioned it at all, but he was still recovering from the shock of being shot by someone who should never want to hurt him. Ever since the fight at the Basilica, every time they met Rowen spent just a little too long staring at the weapons David was carrying, and was just a little too uneasy whenever David's hands were close to them.

But all this was just a nervous reaction, a hangover from that day. It would pass. He wasn't going to be the subject of Rowen's nightmares forever.

Rowen left the bed to go and wash his face. When he returned and put his arms resolutely around David, David jolted.

"You're cold."

"I've just been to the bathroom. Sorry." Rowen laughed when David grumbled, but snuggling closer at the same time.

David didn't know if more physical contact would make things easier or harder for Rowen, he was going to have to find out.

This would pass. But until then, until he was completely sure Rowen wasn't going to regret anything, he wasn't going to allow this relationship go any further.

 

Everyday just after dinner, Jean Paulet would try to get Qubine to go for a walk with him. It didn't always work, but when Qubine did oblige he would take Lassie Doo with him, and sometimes Jean Paulet brought Agnetha on the stroller.

Emmy, observing this change, asked her husband if he was cheating on David with Qubine, saying that they looked like a married couple with a baby. She was only teasing him but it was difficult to keep the romance going with situations exploding left, right and centre, and Jean Paulet did wonder how he was going to cope without neglecting Emmy. But it wasn't a matter of whether he could handle it. He had to.

Unfortunately, Qubine might have heard Emmy's half-hearted joke because since then, he had turned down every invitation from Jean Paulet, and would not go anywhere unless Jean Paulet physically dragged him out of the house.

But Basel was a small world and it was hard to find anywhere to go that did not bring any memories related to David or indeed, risk running into him. Eventually, Jean Paulet decided the safest thing to do was to take Qubine to his house even if they didn't do anything more exciting than watching television.

"How does anyone tolerate such... mundaneness?"

To be fair, it was a rubbish show they were watching and there was nothing better on. Even Jean Paulet felt like he couldn't defend the taste of the masses. "Because, mon ami, not everyone has an exciting cave full of interesting toys like you do."

"No one thinks any of it is actually interesting, I'm sure," said Qubine as he changed the channel.

He settled on an in-depth analysis of the recent Chandelier attack and its effects on the man who presided over Basel, Cardinal Rowen.

They watched it in silence, Jean Paulet stealing glances at his friend occasionally, annoyed at himself for not knowing about this programme beforehand. If he'd known, he wouldn't have turned on the television in the first place.

When the documentary ended, Qubine announced he was going home. Jean Paulet made noises of disappointment, but nothing he said could stop Qubine from leaving.

He made a call to Qubine's maid, asking her to let him know when Qubine returned home safely. She informed him that things were probably fine, Qubine had started taking medication at the same hour everyday so he was likely just going home for that.

A thought came to Jean Paulet. "What medicine is he taking?"

The maid went to look at the boxes and spelled out the names for him. He jotted them down, thanked her, and hung up.

When he turned around, he saw Emmy standing there, staring at his notes.

"Ma chéri—"

She snatched the piece of paper out of his hand, studying it intently.

"The two can be taken together, but not at these dosages. Who are these for?"

Jean Paulet hadn't counted on Emmy being here right now. He gave her a sheepish look.

"Not me," was all he could say.

"My bad, I shouldn't have asked," she said, although she had obviously put the pieces together now. "He is self-medicating, isn't he? He seems the type to do that."

"Oui..."

She pointed at one of the names on the paper. "The dosage is too high. Get him to halve it."

"Is it dangerous?"

"It will be after it builds up. I hope he hasn't been taking it for long."

Jean Paulet felt like he'd betrayed Qubine's trust but it was a good thing to have Emmy cast her professional eyes over it. He sighed, his head bowed.

"If I could get him to listen to me."

"Do you want me to try to talk to him?"

"Pardon?"

"He respects professional opinion, it should be fine," she said, tilting her head to one side. "Jean, I wish you'd just tell me about this. For a little while I really did wonder what you were up to."

Jean Paulet just shook his head. Emmy was right, but what could he say? He didn't know what he could say to her or Qubine. He didn't really understand very much, he didn't know what he could do to help, and he didn't know what was still holding Qubine together. For all intents and purposes, everything Qubine had set out to do in his life was finished. Maybe he hadn't even ever expected to live past the day he met Sullivan. He had made it look like he didn't care that David didn't understand. What could keep a man going when the single thing that had driven him for years was taken away from him?

"Think of it this way: it might not be the ideal method, but a period of downtime can actually do him some good physically since he's so chronically overworked. I'll talk to him in the morning. He's a tough cookie, he'll get through this."

Would he, Jean Paulet wondered.

But what was he thinking? Of course Qubine would be fine. If his friends didn't have faith in him, then how could he carry on? Even now, he was doing his best to get better, appreciating and tolerating Jean Paulet's efforts to help.

One day, he would be back to his old self, insufferable, arrogant, reproachful, even blasphemous. Back to the Qubine Jean Paulet — and David too, he was sure — knew and loved.

"Mais oui!"


	49. Epitome of Evil

[AR1141, spring]

Today was Roeas's first day back at work since getting both her arms broken in the fight with Rebecca. There wasn't much "work" to speak of, just escorting Rowen from his office to his home, but she arrived far earlier than she had to; modern medicine meant this sort of injury only took a couple of weeks to mend, but that was long enough for her to be bored stiff. Her arms worked fine now, though the doctor recommended waiting at least another month before doing anything strenuous. But she was still quite capable of removing the odd religious fanatic or anti-government protester if needed. It was a good way of easing herself back into the routine.

Roeas walked inside the building without being stopped. She had a pass, but by now the staff could recognise her and just let her through. When she did get stopped, it was by people who wanted to ask after her injuries. It took her some time to get to the top floor, where Rowen worked most days in a room opposite Veronique's.

Roeas had talked to Veronique a few times before, in a I-should-acknowledge-your-existence kind of way. There were certain kinds of women she never quite knew how to talk to, with a vibe that told Roeas she had less in common with them than she had with, say, Cardinal Pater. Veronique gave off that vibe.

Roeas was about to find somewhere to sit down when Veronique caught sight of her through the window in her door, and came out of her office.

"Roeas! It's good to see you. How are you feeling?"

Perfunctory small talk. Roeas was sure Veronique meant well, but she didn't like this kind of thing much and she'd done enough of it on the way here. "A hundred percent, thanks."

Veronique smiled. "I was about to give you a call, actually, to ask if you could come early, and here you are. I've told Rowen to go home."

Roeas checked the time. It was pretty early still. "Right now?"

"Yes... he seems a bit under the weather."

"Okay, I'll whisk him home."

"I'll call a car for you two, and call the doctor. Could you please stay with him until the doctor arrives?"

"Sure." She wasn't his nanny, but Rowen lived on his own and didn't keep live-in staff. And since he'd been a pretty good boss, she didn't mind too much. And if she let David know, she bet he'd be there in a flash to take over.

This was a brilliant idea. She smirked just as Veronique went away to make her call, then knocked on Rowen's door.

Rowen was probably not expecting to see Roeas yet. He sighed when she stepped inside, taking his coat off the coat stand. It was almost summer but it didn't look like Rowen had changed his wardrobe yet.

Veronique was right, Rowen didn't look so good. The season had been dreary but that wasn't enough to explain how pale his face was. Better hope it wasn't contagious, whatever it was.

The man put up a little bit of a fight, but eventually they arrived back in his house. He apologised when she made tea for him, knowing that this was outside of her work remit.

"It's no trouble," she said, sitting down on the other arm of the corner sofa. It'd be too much for her future home with Zephyr, but she really liked it.

He stared at his tea in contemplation.

"I'll give—"

"Don't tell David," he cut her off, quietly but firmly.

It wasn't a complete surprise that he didn't want David to know he wasn't feeling well, but the way he said it felt a bit weird. "Is that a request or is it an order?"

"Both." He sipped his tea. "Sorry about this."

She studied him, reading the reason behind his words.

Hmm...

She wasn't going to argue.

The doctor arrived quite soon and saw him in private. Afterwards, she spoke to Roeas.

"It's stress-related. The Cardinal needs rest."

"You're talking about Rowen," Roeas said simply, and the doctor nodded.

"I know it's a lost cause... but try to let him have as much peace and quiet as possible. I'll speak to Veronique about his workload. For the next three days at least, I insist that he stays home and don't touch any work at all."

"How about visitors?"

"Not unless he invites them. Would that be a problem?"

Roeas shrugged. "I'm just a bodyguard, I do as I'm told. Usually, anyway."

It wasn't as if most of Rowen's work wasn't for public disclosure in one way or another anyway. If David asked, there were any number of excuses that could be used to explain why Rowen couldn't be contacted. This wasn't Roeas's concern.

The doctor was quite right, this was something to do with stress. But Roeas could also see, quite easily, that there was more to it. Her friends and Zephyr had all explained to her many times though that this wasn't something everyone could do, although it came to her as easily as breathing.

It would be better if David stayed away for a while.

 

"How lovely it is to be picked up from work by my beautiful wife!"

The reaction Jean Paulet received was an exasperated yet affectionate roll of the eyes. They walked, hand in hand, making their leisurely way to the lift.

"How about we go and get early dinner, then head to the night bazaar?"

"You want to go shopping? Don't you need to check on Qubine?"

Jean Paulet gave Emmy's hand a squeeze. "I need to look for a birthday present for David."

Emmy wasn't entirely impressed, but seemed to be more amused than annoyed. "When's his birthday?"

"Tomorrow," said Jean Paulet, looking sheepish. He had been so focused on Qubine these days he had completely forgotten about this. In fact, it was Qubine who rang him at work earlier to remind him. "But I guess he'll be busy with his amoureux anyway, I can see him the day after instead, so we have a couple of days to search for a gift."

"We?"

"Oui!"

Sighing, Emmy gave a defeated shake of her head. She'd pulled her hair into a ponytail today, something she tended to do if she had a call-out to go to. Continuing her old job as an army doctor would make married life too difficult, but every place needed doctors, even Chandelier. Jean Paulet had always known she'd refuse to be a stay-at-home mum, and was proud of her insistence to not let her medical knowledge go to waste.

"So who is David dating?"

Fortunately, a while ago David had already given Jean Paulet permission to tell his wife if she did ask. He lowered his voice. "You probably won't believe me... it's Cardinal Rowen."

The look of surprise on Emmy's face was quite something. "Really?" she asked, and her husband nodded. "Wow, go David! All I managed to bag was a little cardinal, but he's gone straight for the top!"

That earned her an elbow in the side. "Who are you calling 'little'?"

She shrugged, then put her arms together to mimic a cradle, and mouthed the words "cradle snatcher". Jean Paulet nodded again, sniggering.

"We might mock, but they do seem to be very much in love!"

"It's... hard to imagine," she said, her brows gathering in thought. "Jean, I think we should try to find that birthday gift tonight, just in case. Cardinal Rowen's a busy man, he might not be able to see David even if he wanted to."

In which case, they should be ready take him out to celebrate. Emmy had a good point.

"Then let's go!"

 

Not that she only saw it as a means to an end, but Roeas placed much less importance on food than David did, and did not cook often, taking up the task only if it was her turn to do so. And some days, like today, David would offer to take over because he felt like it.

Dinner was going to consist of the mystery meat Vashyron brought home, and salad. Watching, Roeas raised an eyebrow.

"Salad?"

David supposed that was a valid question; their household wasn't exactly the healthy eating type. "Watching my weight."

No complaints came. The rule had always been that whoever did the cooking got to decide what went on the table, so long as it was edible.

"Somebody called you fat?"

David chuckled. "I'm gradually pulling out of the hunter business. Not sure if Rowen would like it if I got podgy."

Roeas snorted. "Speaking of Rowen, he's got something to do and probably won't surface for a few days."

The information made David pause. He had spoken to Rowen on the phone last night and nothing of that sort was mentioned. Even so, this wasn't anything too unusual for something to suddenly crop up.

But still... "Oh, I see."

Roeas went to get the plates. "I just got back to work, and suddenly I get a few days off... what is it?" she asked, and David said nothing, trying to look an innocent as he could, but she still picked it up anyway. "You've got things planned?"

"Not particularly. I was just hoping to see him."

She stared at him some more, and then stepped outside the kitchen, presumably to check the calendar. "Ha. It's your birthday tomorrow."

One day he was going to be able to fool her, but not today. He followed her out, carrying their dinner and stopping briefly under the roof hatch to shout for Zephyr to come down.

"Please don't tell him. He's busy and I don't want him to feel guilty."

"Are you sure?"

The idea didn't exactly fill David with joy, but he was sure this was the right thing to do. "It's only a birthday. It comes around every year without fail."

"If you say so."

He should just try to forget about the birthday this time round, David thought. In the past few years, even if it wasn't on the day, somehow Qubine would be involved with the celebrations. Last year he even bothered to make David a gift. This year, David had wanted to spend some time with Rowen because there really wasn't any time he didn't want to be with Rowen, and he also wanted to take his mind off how things with his friends had changed. But apparently that wasn't to be.

Maybe he should take Paris to the jazz club and make him to dance with him instead. Now that was a thought.

 

Veronique overreacted.

No, that wasn't true. But Rowen wished it was. Even if he was just a figurehead — the definition of his job was an old argument — he couldn't really afford to just stay home and rest even if it was good for him. And he and stress went back a long way, he had long learned how to deal with it.

But of course, Emmy was just doing her job. She was a good doctor who knew when to stop asking questions because she understood their positions, and Rowen was thankful for that because he could not, and did not wish to talk about any of it. Not that he didn't trust her to remain professional and confidential because her husband was one of David's best friends, but there were things that simply could not be discussed.

Talking about it meant admitting to it. David was strong, he could talk about the most horrific things rather than run away from them. Rowen couldn't. But if he gave himself time, maybe he could learn to handle it.

Going to his alcohol cabinet, he browsed the bottles before taking out one, a gift from Lagerfeld a few years ago. It seemed the right time to open this.

David never said who it was that killed Lagerfeld, but shortly before the man died he told Rowen he'd found the "bedevilled boy" who committed massacre at Crank Seminary. For him to be able to identify the boy, he must also have found out about the things Sullivan did, the origins of the disaster. But Lagerfeld made his choice between God and science, and paid the price.

Rowen believed in science. And perhaps in God as well, but it had been a long time since he last examined his own faith. Zenith and God were not necessarily the same, nor were they necessarily mutually exclusive, Rowen just didn't care enough to analyse anything. What he cared about were Basel and the promises he'd made to Freida. Having some control over the religion helped him keep order in this mad world. Whether or not God came into the equation didn't matter to him very much.

Perhaps it would be correct to say he had faith in the usefulness of religion as a tool.

The whisky was smooth in his mouth, with a bit of nuttiness in its scent. It was good stuff. Then again, it was Lagerfeld who got him into whisky to begin with, and every bottle he'd given Rowen over the years was something exceptional. Lagerfeld was a generous man, and more personable than he looked. They didn't always see eye to eye on policies but both Basel and Rowen were worse off without him.

It wasn't David who killed Lagerfeld; he would have admitted to it if that was the case. David had already moved to Chandelier by the time the bedevilled boy brought Hell. But it was too easy to imagine David being the one.

But so what if he did? What if any of the survivors did it? They were victims trying to get on with their lives, but told their existence was a blasphemy. For them, it was to kill or be killed.

If it was David who killed Lagerfeld, though, how would he have done it? Shoot until the man's face was so ridden with bullets it became a pulp of blood, flesh and bone, like Sullivan, or a single shot through the heart, as he did with Rowen?

Stop this. He had to stop thinking about it. This was not fair on David. He didn't want any of that. When he saw what he'd done he even turned the gun on himself.

Rowen poured himself another glass. One more, and then bed. Maybe this time he would be able to sleep through the night.

The sudden noise from the phone made him jump. He was tempted to ignore it, but it could be David calling, so he reached for the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Rowen? It's Qubine."

"Ah." Not someone Rowen would expect to hear from. Qubine was supposed to be unwell. "How're you doing?"

"Not bad," said Qubine. "I want to ask if you have any work for me."

An eyebrow arched. "I thought you're on a break."

"I was. I hated it. Give me things to do."

Rowen had no idea what to make of this. "You will need to wait for me to sort my own work out before I can pass you anything."

Qubine breathed out deeply. "That's fine. I'll continue looking at the auxiliary power system in the meanwhile," he said. "Ah, since I'm aware he tends to neglect mentioning these things... you do know that it's David's birthday tomorrow?"

Rowen swore. He had no idea. Why didn't David say anything? No, he should just know anyway, this was one of the most basic facts he should know. And he'd asked Roeas to tell David he'd be extremely busy the next few days, too. What kind of a rubbish partner was he!

"Hmm, looks like he's kept quiet about it again. Well, I'm sure his friends would have something planned, don't worry too much."

Even so, Rowen should celebrate with him. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll figure something out." Rowen had a feeling that the main reason why Qubine called was to tell him about this rather than ask for work. But there was something curious about the way Qubine phrased things. "You said his friends should have made plans. This sounds like you're not taking part."

The words seemed to have touched a nerve, because the response came a little slower than usual. "I believe he'd rather not see me right now."

Qubine was right, and from what David had said, he had a fairly good reason for feeling that way. "Why didn't you tell him you knew about his past?

"Why do you ask?"

"It's important to him, therefore it's important to me."

There was a quiet snort. "Keeping quiet just seemed the better option at the time."

A plausible explanation, but too simple. "And you didn't consider the future?"

"There was no way I could have foreseen our ties would carry on for so many years. I have other classmates whom I have not spoken to since leaving college, David could have been one of them."

Lies. Rowen could call Qubine out, but he knew better than to do so. Backing Qubine into a corner would not yield the truth. Keeping him talking, on the other hand, might. "And now you think your decision was wrong, to have pretended to look away in the beginning."

A short pause. "I did think that. But what if I'd chosen to tell him? The results could have been just as messy, or worse. There is no point in thinking about it now."

"You are not even thinking about apologising to him?"

"Should I? He hadn't apologised for shooting me in the head. Maybe he did mean to kill me."

What? David didn't say sorry at all? For a moment Rowen lost his words.

"Rowen, I understand that you're on his side. That's fair enough; I'd be surprised if you weren't," said Qubine. "An apology from him isn't really something I need, but you'll agree it's sufficient to illustrate that things have soured between us. And I'd very much rather just leave it at that. I have better things to do with my life than to salvage a so-called friendship with someone who thinks I'm the epitome of evil."

Those had to be just fighting words. No, not even that. If Qubine was truly angry he would not have taken the time to tell Rowen about David's birthday. Qubine was lying and he didn't care if Rowen saw through him, he just wanted Rowen to nod and drop the subject.

And Rowen did, because he felt sorry for him. "I don't know what David's thinking," he said with a laugh. "If you were evil, Basel would be in a lot of trouble."

"People are temperamental and unpredictable. I think that's why I prefer test tubes over human beings," Qubine said. "On that note, I shall go and play with black oil and leave you to your birthday planning."

"Try not to drink it."

"Too late, I'm already hooked." Qubine laughed. "Talk later."

"Later."

Rowen put down the phone, then drained his drink, and poured himself another.

Just one more, to allow himself time to mull over the things he'd just learned, and then bed.


	50. Treating the Symptoms

[AR1141, spring]

David had no idea why he was so surprised to find Rush on his doorstep. He really should have expected this.

"What's with that face? You didn't think I'd forget your birthday, did you?"

David moved aside to let Rush in. "Well, you never forgot even once in the last eight years, but I don't take that for granted."

"Nine years now. Man, you were a kid when we first met. And now you're... still a kid."

"I was eighteen. That's hardly young." Still in his pyjama bottoms, David threw a shirt on and then went to make tea for them both. There was no way he could have known that this clumsy-looking man with a funny accent would turn out to be such a dependable friend. "Haven't you got work?"

"I've shifted my days," said Rush, who sat down and hooked an arm over the back of the sofa so that he could turn and look into the kitchen. "You got things to do today?"

"No."

"Then let's go out for lunch and stuff. Paris and the others will join us when they finish work... do you mind if Rhagoh comes too?"

"Of course not." David returned with mugs of tea, and saw Rush waving something at him.

The wrapped item was square in shape, and thin. At first sight David thought it was a vinyl record, but in his hands it felt too light and flimsy. He eyed Rush, suspicious, and increasingly so upon seeing him trying to keep his face straight.

He tore open the wrapping paper, saw what it was and immediately tossed it aside as if it burned him, and buried his face in his hands. Beside him, Rush burst out laughing.

"Don't chuck it like that! I had to look into, like, a million shops to find it!" He leaned over, practically lying across David's lap, to retrieve the apparently coveted charity calendar, with each month featuring a picture of a Cardinal.

There were no words David could say to describe his feelings. With ginger fingers he removed the shrink wrap and turned to the first month, and immediately winced when he saw a picture of Garigliano. This wasn't a nude calendar, but any amount of Garigliano was too much Garigliano for him.

"Hey, you get Pater for the rest of this month." Rush cackled and flipped the pages. Pater appeared, dressed in his trademark green shirt. "Then you get a whole month of Rowen next! Followed by... er... your brother."

The picture of Rowen was actually a rather good one that made him look not serious, but contemplative. The photographer did a good job drawing attention to Rowen's deep-set eyes, and the line of his jaw was lit perfectly as well. The ring on his finger was plain to see. This was taken at Prelate Freida's memorial hall in the Basilica, perhaps some time last year.

David suddenly realised he had no photos of Rowen, let alone any photo taken with him.

He wished he could see Rowen today.

"I guess I've got to give it to you: this is the most ridiculous birthday gift ever." He looked further and found Jean Paulet towards the end, being his usual handsome self. "So where's this going?"

The calendar found its home hanging from a nail that was already sticking out from one of the wall shelves in David's bedroom. Pater's infectious grin lit up the room, but David frowned at it.

He could think out loud; Rush was allowed to hear these thoughts. "If Qubine was made Cardinal, it would've been his face on this page. That would've been so strange."

"Why isn't he a cardinal anyway?"

"He didn't want to be one," said David, glancing at Rush. "That's what he told me anyway." But maybe that wasn't the truth. The only thing he knew was definitely true was that Qubine was a damn good liar.

Rush's face turned a little concerned. "You still aren't talking to him?"

"I'm not 'not talking to him'. It's not like we had a little fight. I told him to tell me the truth, he refused, so the friendship's over as far as I'm concerned."

The month wasn't over yet, but David decided to turn the calendar to the next page, partly because of Rowen and partly because it felt weird to have a big picture of Leanne's boyfriend's face hanging up in his room.

"Aww."

"It's embarrassing to have a calendar of your other half in your room," David admitted.

"Too bad it isn't a sexy calendar, eh?"

David rolled his eyes. Rush grinned at him, pushing him towards the wardrobe.

"Come on, get dressed and let's go find food somewhere."

"Do Rhagoh and Kate not mind that we hang out together all day?" asked David, picking out clothes to wear. Should he be kicking Rush out of his room? He really wasn't bothered, but he probably should, considering he was seeing someone now.

"I... might have neglected to tell them a few things."

"Ah."

"If they suspect anything, they haven't said it. Anyway, they trust me and I trust them. I wouldn't be worried if you spent time with Rhagoh either."

"Of course you wouldn't. You'd want things to happen and pay to watch."

"Hey, I'm not that much of a perv!"

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Then get out while I get dressed."

 

David was on the dance floor with Paris and Rhagoh. Being self conscious in nature, Paris was doing little more than swaying to the music, but both he and his brother looked like they were having a good time. As for Rhagoh, the jazz club seemed to be an old haunt of his. He seemed so shy earlier but as soon as the music began he was like a different person.

Watching from their table, Jean Paulet smiled. "I've got to bring Emmy here," he said to himself, then turned towards Rush. "You're not dancing?"

"Maybe in a bit. But I really suck at it," Rush told him as he stirred his cocktail idly. "Hey, say... Dave told me he isn't friends with Qubine anymore?"

The mention of Qubine made Jean Paulet sigh. He'd tried to get hold of Qubine on the phone earlier but he wasn't at home. Jean Paulet couldn't help but worry. "That seems to be the case, yes." He eyed Rush, and sighed again.

"So we just leave it?" asked Rush, incredulous.

"I don't know what the best course of action is." Jean Paulet rested his arms on the table and weaved his fingers together. "At the moment I'm respecting Qubine's choice."

"This is stupid."

"Why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious? He's worth fighting for. And he deserves to know there are people who'd go — who have gone — to hell and back for him. It might make things messy, yeah, but feeling like people've betrayed him or turned their backs on him is exactly what he _doesn't_ need."

This was not an angle Jean Paulet had considered from. When Rush put it like that, it seemed to make sense.

But... "It might be too late for that."

"What, because of Rowen?"

Jean Paulet shook his head. "Because Qubine's motivations are clear as day. This isn't truly about him refusing to explain, but that David is using the refusal to avoid seeing the truth." He clutched his hands together, and swallowed the rest of his words. After learning about the past from David, he did wonder about the reason behind David's silence all these years. That night last year, when David lost his bet and had to take Rowen out for a drink — who knew a romance would have blossomed from that — Qubine told Jean Paulet that David didn't need any more people to know about his past, that their job was to let him move on. And Jean Paulet believed his friend was right. David wanted to be free from all that, and he didn't want to burden Jean Paulet with horrors that nobody could do anything about.

But was it the same for Qubine? He was a man of science, not faith. He could understand and, more importantly, make sense of the things that had happened. If David trusted Qubine, he could even have tried to ask Qubine for help.

If David trusted Qubine.

It wasn't "too late" for Qubine to explain himself — there never had been a right time. After those atrocities, it was a miracle that David was able to trust in anyone at all, but still, it was too unfair for Qubine to be treated this way simply because he was his mother's son.

Life was unfair on David, and in turn, unfair on Qubine. And if anyone said anything now, it would be unfair on Rowen.

"I still think it's worth telling him," said Rush.

"Like I said, I don't know what the good thing to do is," or if the good thing to do was the right thing to do, "but if you are serious, I think you should first talk to Qubine."

One of Rush's eyebrows went up. "You think he'd actually listen to me?"

Good question. "Unlikely."

"Then I'm just gonna tell'im. Whether or not he believes it is up to him, but having the idea in the back of his mind will do him good."

It felt like he should dissuade Rush just out of respect for Qubine's choice, but Jean Paulet didn't really want to. This time he wanted to fight for Qubine's corner, even if it had to be done behind his back.

After all, he did love a bit of meddling.

"But not today." Jean Paulet checked the time on his pocketwatch. "I'm sending him to Rowen's in a couple of hours."

"I thought he was busy."

"He is, and when he's busy he often works through the night. But he called me earlier, I imagine he's made arrangements to accommodate."

"Well, it's good to know someone's treating Dave right."

"Oui."

 

"How did you know it's my birthday?"

Rowen tried to pull a smug face. He had a feeling he wasn't very good at it. "Who do you think I am? If I want to know something, the information will be made available to me."

David very nearly giggled. "Right," he said, obviously unconvinced. "Of course."

Rowen held his gaze for a few moments before relenting. "Jean Paulet told me." It wasn't the truth, but he had a feeling this was the right thing to say. "I'm sorry I don't have anything prepared."

"That's fine. You've been busy."

"If you'd told me, I would have prepared something in good time, then I wouldn't have to feel bad about it."

"Well." David dipped his head for a moment. "I need to tell you things, yes. You're right. It saves a lot of grief."

What was he talking about? "You haven't given me any grief. I'm making an apology, not trying to make you feel bad about me feeling bad."

That made David chuckle. "Fine." He leaned forward, taking Rowen's whisky and passing it to him. "Drink this, then let me kiss you," he said, reading Rowen's face. "I'm not really allergic, I just have a low tolerance."

"How low?"

"Depending on what it is, I can handle about two drinks. But if I have more than that I become... anti-social."

Rowen hoped he didn't look as nervous as this nugget of information had just made him. He sipped from his glass, then decided to finish it. If David said he would be all right, then he would be all right. And he had left his weapons with the guards, something he had started doing recently because, as he said, he had no need of them in the house. But Rowen would still rather not let him touch too much alcohol, just in case.

Just in case.

The thought didn't last long. Soon David was kissing him ("I've never had whisky before. So this is what it tastes like.") and Rowen found himself becoming horizontal, with David on top of him on the sofa, making quick work of every fastening on his clothes. There was a gleam in David's eyes, a little like how he looked when he fought Sullivan that day. He was breathtaking; Rowen didn't think he had ever felt so entranced by someone in his life. And then that intense attraction turned into pain when...

He put his hands in David's hair to catch his attention.

"Hmm?"

"You seem a bit keen."

"It's my birthday, I unexpectedly get to spend time with you. That puts me in a good mood," David said, shifting his focus back to the task at hand, freeing Rowen from his trousers. "Problem?"

"I just thought it might be the alcohol," said Rowen, who immediately regretted his words. "I don't like taking advantage of drunkenness, that's all."

David laughed. "I'm not _that_ lightweight. Now, not one more word from you unless it's about how good this feels."

Despite his tiredness and the stress that resulted in him being sent home from work, it took little time for Rowen's body to respond when David's hand stroked him, gentle and coaxing at first, then more firmly. Then, when a tongue ran slowly up the length, then lapped at the head, Rowen gasped, embarrassed by the sound that came out of his mouth. It must be something to do with those eyes, that predatory look that sent shivers down Rowen's spine. Just a touch of alcohol was enough to change David like this. Rowen felt fear, there was no denying it. But when David was willing to put his mouth around Rowen's length in this state, that fear morphed into something else that Rowen couldn't recognise.

It took quite a lot of willpower to stop David, and sit up. Shuffling forward, Rowen reached for him and began to work on his clothes. He liked oral sex like any other man, but right now he wanted to be slamming inside David and listening to his moans.

He had only managed to get David's shirt off before David suddenly left the sofa. He looked up at him, confused.

David gestured for Rowen to follow him, then headed for the bedroom.

When David looked inside the wardrobe, pulled out a scarf and placed it in Rowen's hand, Rowen frowned, even more confused than before.

"Tie me to the bed."

Rowen was sure he heard him wrong. He just gaped, not sure how to respond. David tipped his head to one side.

"Unless you really oppose to that sort of thing?"

"I... I thought you have a problem with being restrained."

David just smiled and climbed onto bed. "I want to try it. And I trust you." He put his arms over his head. "I think being tied to your bed and fucked will be very hot."

Rowen looked at the scarf, then at David, decision made. David wanted it, and hell if Rowen didn't want to do this. To have control, to have David at his mercy. He could feel his length hardening at the thought.

"Language, David." He approached the bed, straddled David and wrapped the scarf around his wrists, tying him to the bars at the top of the bed.

"If I keep using that word are you going to punish me? If you are: strip me and fuck me now." David lifted his hips, still clad in denim.

Rowen's breath quickened. "I might have to punish you."

"With a night of being tied up and fucked repeatedly? Yes please."

"I'll give that some consideration."

David groaned, writhing until Rowen removed what remained of his clothes. Moving back up, Rowen let his cock touch David's lips, which parted and then wrapped around him, sucking. He put his hands in David's hair, controlling the pace and making David take it deeper.

David was right. This was hot. This was even better, far more intense than what he received on the sofa. The way David moaned around his cock, the way his hands twitched in their restraints when Rowen pushed in a little more, the way those eyes looked up at him, helpless but lustful at the same time. But he couldn't just do what he wanted; right now, Rowen was the one—

And then he remembered himself. What was he doing? Was this really all right? He had never even imagined he might enjoy this sort of sex. And how could he allow himself to enjoy this if it upset David? Did this not have bad associations for David, could this possibly trigger him, even?

He shifted backwards, pulling out of David's mouth, harder than he had ever been, and more worried than the first time he had sex in his life. "David... are you okay?"

It took a few seconds for David to adjust his throat and catch his breath. "This is exactly what I wanted," he said, face flushed, chest heaving. "It's not like you to second-guess yourself."

"I'm just... anxious." They hadn't done this before, and this was supposed to go against David's instinct. But the corners of David's lips curled upwards when he heard the explanation.

"Just trust yourself. And trust me. And enjoy me, too."

Trust him. And love him. Yes, these were absolutes for Rowen no matter what.

"Are you sure it's your birthday, not mine?"

"I'm naked and tied to your bed. Somehow I feel that further discussions are a waste of our time."

Point taken. They were both having a good time, there was nothing to worry about and no need to analyse it. Not right now, anyway.

Rowen proceeded to enjoy David as he was told. Every inch of the dark skin, every shiver, every time David begged for more. But there was nothing he could do except let Rowen have his way.

Afterwards, Rowen slept better than he had in weeks.

 

David looked in the kitchen, saw some bread rolls and helped himself to one, spreading butter on it whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. He made a coffee — just instant, Rowen was often in too much hurry in the morning to bother with distilled — and left it there, popping into the bathroom as soon as Rowen was done.

"You don't need to rush."

David gave Rowen a quick kiss. "I know, but still." He had got up extra early to make sure he wouldn't delay Rowen getting to work, but it turned out Rowen was already out of bed by then. "I made you coffee. Eat something; I know you skip lunch when you're busy."

Once Rowen was out of the room, David went to the nightstand, opened the drawer and peeked inside.

Just as he thought. No gun. Not the one Qubine made, not even the usual handgun Rowen used to keep here. It wasn't in the holster in the wardrobe either.

He took a quick shower and got dressed. When he was done, Rowen was only half way through his coffee. He stole it from him and took a sip.

"Did you sleep well?"

A small smile was Rowen's answer.

"Do you want some breakfast?"

"I had one of your rolls when you were in the shower," said David, returning the coffee. "I'm going in a minute."

"David..."

"You weren't supposed to be free last night. I don't want you to have to work even longer, it makes me feel guilty."

That made Rowen sigh and shake his head. He left his chair, went up to David and took his hands. "Are you all right?"

It took watching Rowen checking his wrists for David to realise what he meant. "Don't be silly. I'm fine."

"How about your shoulders? I kept you like that for far too long..."

Oh, Rowen. "Put it this way: I wasn't the slightest bit worried, and it turned out I was right," he said, turning his hand to grasp Rowen's. "Thank you for a wonderful birthday."

Rowen was wry. "It still felt more like it was my birthday."

"In that case, I know what to do when your birthday comes around." David all but grinned, Rowen's reaction to his words caught somewhere between worried and amused.

He left the house a bit before Rowen had to go for work, collecting his weapons from the guards at the gate. It felt weird to do this, as if he had been visiting a government building or a relative in prison, but if it helped Rowen feel safer, then...

But that was only treating the symptoms.

David wasn't lying when he said he trusted Rowen. In fact, being able to trust someone that far was a breakthrough for him, a major step.

He wished Rowen could feel the same way about him.


	51. Insane

[AR1141, spring]

"You want to talk about it?"

Not Vashyron this time. Roeas. She actually looked a little concerned.

David lowered the book he was trying to make sense of, turned around and leaned back against the railing. "Not particularly. But if you have any insight to impart, I'd love to hear it."

"On who? There are two men on your mind."

Damn. Trust her to see that, too. "Both, then."

"Nothing I can tell you about Qubine; I haven't seen him since that time at the Basilica," she said. "Not very much I can say about Rowen either if I want to keep my job, but he's trying."

David already knew that. Rowen was doing his best. "Is he seeing someone about it?"

"Can't tell you."

That probably meant yes. Not that there was much Rowen could tell a doctor, "actually I was shot by my lover, not Sullivan, and I was revived by a machine that was playing god" were words that could be detrimental to... well, everything, really.

David sighed gently. "Does he know I've noticed?"

"He thinks you might have. He's quite worried about that."

It had been nearly two months since the battle in the Basilica. During this time, David had pulled out of the hunter business and began a new part time job working for Jean Paulet as a security consultant for his diocese, and picked up more work from Charlotte too. These changes were meant to help make it easier for David and Rowen to become part of each other's lives. But during these two months, Rowen had changed.

No, it wasn't fair at all on Rowen to say that. It was David's fault to begin with. And it'd become obvious that the problem wasn't going to go away by itself.

"I really want to close my eyes, cover my ears and pretend everything is all right."

The admission was oddly easy to make.

Roeas shrugged. "Isn't that what we all do anyway?"

She was right. For those without faith, that was probably the only way to survive life in Basel. David would like to think that he was a realist rather than an escapist, but what one wanted to be and what one was did not always match up.

They turned when they heard footsteps. On the other side of the roof, Vashyron appeared from the stairwell, looking deeply hurt when he saw them.

"Hey! I thought you like my side of the roof!"

"Sorry Daddy. You know I still love you."

Vashyron shuddered visibly as he went over to them, his gaze drifting towards the tome in David's hand. "Huh, I've been wondering. So you do know."

David glanced at his book, a thick volume of case studies, methods of diagnosis and the treatments of several types of mental illnesses. It was too late to hide it from view now. But what was Vashyron talking about anyway? He shouldn't know about Rowen at all.

"What do you mean?"

The question made Vashyron pause. Then he decided to retreat. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Vashyron—"

"Come down soon, Leanne's almost done cooking and she'll kill us all if we let the food get cold."

With that, he disappeared down the hatch. By now David was used to words unsaid, questions unanswered, mysteries in his life that were never going to be solved. What was one more, really?

But there was a conversation he must have with Rowen. There were still some months before Feast of the Prelate, but surely preparation would begin quite soon and David didn't want to be a distraction then; they had to do this soon, no matter how unprepared he was.

It wasn't as if he was ever going to be prepared for this, anyway.

 

"Why are you working so hard?"

"There needs to be a explanation?"

Looking at a gift horse in the mouth — that was what he was doing, Rowen knew that.

But.

If he thought about it all from Qubine's point of view, and the sort of work that he had been picking up, Rowen believed he could see the reasonings easily. And he just wanted them confirmed.

A more reliable mechanical system for the lifts. Revival of a nutrient-rich crop from centuries ago. And in the medium term, a new auxiliary power system for Basel, and the regeneration of Lucia. Each one of these was aimed at Basel's most pressing issues, and they were either ready to be announced at the Feast of the Prelate, or launched within the next twelve months.

Yet, despite all that, Qubine had never come across to Rowen as someone who wanted to save Basel.

In the back of his mind, Rowen had an answer. But he couldn't say it out loud. And if Qubine wouldn't tell him why, then it meant that he was right.

This feeling... it burned.

"I just worry I might let you down."

"The new prelate, letting me down? I don't think that's possible."

Rowen wasn't sure if that was meant to compliment or put pressure on him. "So the rumour has reached you? How? I've not seen you for months, one would've thought you never leave your house anymore."

"It's only a logical deduction," said Qubine, not acknowledging his apparent absence at all.

"Fair enough." Rowen snorted. "We need a meeting to go over some of the finer details."

"There isn't anything we can't do over the phone or by fax."

"Are you truly becoming a hermit?"

"I've had enough of those five-hour meetings with you, Rowen. My youth, so misspent sitting in a room with an old man, talking and talking."

"If you don't want to go anywhere, I can visit you. Or we can have a coffee nearby."

"What's with this irrepressible urge to see me? Are you finally falling for my charms?"

"I just think we should meet. It has been two months since Basilica." Two months since Qubine gave his life shielding Rowen from David's bullet. The thought of this still astonished him.

"Your other half would not be so thrilled by the idea of us being in the same room."

"David understands your position in my team."

"That might be so, but there is no need for you to test it."

That made Rowen pause briefly. "Are you going to allow this misunderstanding to govern your life?"

"Can't a boy just be left alone to do his science?"

"Qubine, you are a human being, not a machine."

"A common misconception on scientists. You ordinary folk simply don't understand how we function."

"Please don't force me to pay you an impromptu visit out of concern."

"If you do that, expect me to pull out of all your projects."

"So this is enough for you then?" To make Rowen Basel's saviour so that no one had reason to object how he lived his private life, so that David could be comfortable? "Is this really what you want?"

"I don't know why you're trying to make an enemy out of me. Like I've told you time and again: I just want to work." Pause. "It's time for me to check on the cultures. Rowen, all you need to know is this: I'm not your enemy or rival, nor do I want to be. I'm here to help you. Talk later."

 

Before they left, Rush mentioned to Kate and Rhagoh that David was going to drop by. Rhagoh told Rush to say hi for him, and all Kate had to say was "oh good, he can help you finish those buns."

It had been a good long while since Rush and David had a chat. A while ago Rush told Jean Paulet he was going to do something about the Qubine situation, but there hadn't been the chance. Between David changing jobs and fitting his schedule around Rowen's, finding time to meet up had become a struggle. It didn't help that technically Rush had a girlfriend _and_ a boyfriend, and that took up more time than a conventional relationship. Not that he was complaining, of course, but he'd been single for so long and this was such a leap from that.

"It's like, you know, a couple who'd tried for a baby for years, then suddenly they got twins."

All David did was arch an eyebrow. Rush thought about what he said.

"Wait no, that's not really what I was going for. But you get what I mean."

David tilted his head to one side gently. "You're destroying twin fantasies for a lot of people."

"Shut up and eat your bun." Good grief. Guess the tides had turned; now David could finally take the mickey out of him.

David did as he was told, scrutinising the appearance of the proffered bread before biting into it. There had been too many buns around lately; Irina was trying to perfect a recipe.

"It's actually quite nice," he said after a bit of chewing.

"Irina calls these 'Blessed Buns'. In honour of Cardinal Rowen, the miracle."

David nearly choked. Rush laughed.

"Really, I'm not even kidding."

"I don't want to be thinking about Rowen's buns right now."

"Aw, you know you want to lick the tasty icing."

That earned Rush a roll of the eyes, but David did finish the bread, then downed his tea like his life depended on it. After he put down the mug, he sighed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mmm hmm?"

"If you'd been going out with Rhagoh for a while without ever knowing that Kate existed, then you suddenly found out about her, what'd you have done?"

"What, like how it happened with you?"

That made David think. "Yes, I suppose so."

Rush couldn't decide if this was a probing question or somthing else. "Well, seeing that Kate and I get on quite well, I guess there wouldn't be a problem, unless if Rhagoh objected."

It didn't look like David was in the mood for food, but he still reached for another bun. Was he stress-eating? "What if... I'm not hinting at anything, this is purely hypothetical, but what if you didn't get on with her?"

Something serious was going on, and it wasn't about Rush or Kate. He decided to put his talk about Qubine aside for the moment and see what this particular problem was first. "I don't know. I suck at hypotheticals. What's this really about?"

A shake of the head was David's answer. That only made Rush frown with worry — David normally would tell him anything.

"Just tell me. If Kate really frightened you, would you keep seeing Rhagoh or would you break things off with him?"

"Look, I really don't know. How frightening is she? Why are you asking? Are you trying to see if you did the right thing after all this time?" Now? This couldn't be about Kate, no way. When David was seeing Rowen and Rush was with Rhagoh, David was having second thoughts? What the—

"It's not that. I..." Looking away, it was as if David suddenly found something interesting to stare at. "Rowen's having problems after seeing what I did at the Basilica that day."

"What?"

"Since then he hadn't been able to sleep properly, he's stressed, he's very tense whenever he sees that I'm armed. I thought it might go away after a while, but he's not getting better."

Oh, hell. Rush thought Rowen would be better than that. "Are you sure it's not work-related? It might not be you."

"He used to keep a gun by the bed, but he's moved it, probably so that I can't get to it. These days when I go to his I leave my entire holster with the guards, otherwise he gets jumpy. He can't relax unless..." David actually smiled, "unless I make him tie me up in bed. Then he's better the next day."

Rush was just about to sit closer, but he backed away again. Mental images he did not need, oh god. "TMI, Dave. TMI."

"I don't mind it, really. But if that's the only way for him to get a good night's sleep when I'm around, then..."

Then it could denature the relationship. "Then he's a weirdo."

"I shot him, Rush. That bullet through his heart, that was from me."

Holy—

And they were still together, still making it work. Rush felt so much respect for David and Rowen right now. It must be difficult though, with the way Rowen was acting.

An explanation came to Rush right away, and he bet that was what David was thinking too. But if they were right, then the news was very bad. This was something that hunters and soldiers were all taught to watch out for. A brush with death or a particularly stressful job could cause changes in anyone, and Rush had seen it happen to an old colleague himself. It didn't matter how strong someone was, it was something to do with the head, the brain.

This was yet another reason why he didn't believe in god. Just look at how badly humans were made.

"If he's got PTSD—"

David rubbed one hand heavily with the other, as if trying to give himself something to focus on. "He's trying to tough it out, but I'm the trigger. He'll just keep suffering if I don't..."

"Hold it right there. Don't make decisions on your own, it ain't fair to him. Hear him out first," said Rush, who glared at David when his friend finally shifted his gaze from his hands. "You were going to use some shitty excuse to break up with him. Don't give me that look, I know what you're like."

The friends stared at each other for a few more moments before David did the nearest thing to a pout.

"I was not."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Dave."

At Rush's narrowed eyes, David scooted back in his seat. "You look like you're going to hit me."

"I kinda did get a knack for it after last time." Rush reached for the basket of buns. "If you're going to keep playing denial even when you're under this roof, then maybe I should try to punch some sense into you."

"Fine. Then maybe I'll go tell Rhagoh all sorts of things about you."

The nerve of the guy! "Go ahead; I'm surprised you haven't already." Rush pushed a bun into David's hand. Even if they weren't being serious, he couldn't believe he had to resort to bribery and threats of violence for this. "Now eat this, and promise me you'll be fair and honest to your man."

David sighed at the bun. "I will."

"You'd rather be a martyr and I'm telling you, sometimes that's actually a really dickish thing to do."

"I understand."

"I just had to double check. It's hard to put sense into you sometimes."

David started eating, finally admitting defeat. Rush watched him for a while. If Rowen was really suffering from a disorder because of David, that would be the worst thing ever. To love someone who couldn't stand the sight of you? Or to love someone who was also your deepest nightmare?

Actually, didn't that also sound like someone else, not just Rowen?

"This shit's messed up," Rush muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

David considered for a moment, but didn't push. "So, wasn't there something you said you wanted to talk about?"

Was this the perfect time to talk about Qubine, or the worst? The latter, Rush decided. One thing at a time, that would be fairer to everyone.

"We'll talk about that later. After you and Rowen sort things out."

 

Post-traumatic stress. Doctor Emmy was full of disapproval, saying that Rowen should have just admitted in the beginning that it was to do with the shooting two months ago, but Rowen was quite sure she understood his reasons. He had not even once tried to market himself as some sort of saint or a man chosen by God, but that was how he was now perceived by the public, and if it became known that the event had given him psychological trauma, people's faith could be damaged.

Emmy did point out that Rowen should trust that everything always remained confidential with her, and he responded saying she was friends with people who were very close to him, and he didn't want to put her in a complicated position. That made her sigh, but she didn't argue further, which probably meant she knew about him and David.

It did worry Rowen, though, that Emmy was able to make a diagnosis at all. She said looking back at the previous few months, the experience at her old job, and reading up on mental health problems for another patient helped her put the pieces together, so it didn't look like David had said anything to her. But the fact that Rowen couldn't fool her meant he was unlikely to fool David either.

The last thing Emmy said to him on the most recent visit was, "having the support of people close to you will definitely help. Please consider this seriously."

David...

David probably already knew, even before Rowen himself did. That would explain so much, from how he now always arrived unarmed, to how he seemed to like to be submissive in bed these days, to the fact that he didn't want to be seen in public with Rowen. It wasn't because he wasn't ready, but because he thought Rowen wasn't.

He deserved so much better than this.

But Rowen didn't know what he could do.

 

He took off his boots after going in through the side entrance. From there, he could look through the kitchen doorway and see that Rowen was sitting at his dining table, his head dipped as he read a document, a highlighter and a pen in one hand. Working late again.

"You look like you're marking homework." He went to stand behind him, swiping the empty mug. "Coffee?"

Rowen didn't look up. "Yes please. Sorry, I'll be done in a second."

Almost as soon as he said that, the fax machine beeped. David shook his head and chuckled, defeated. When he noticed that the machine seemed to be having some difficulty, he put the mug down and went to take a look, then put in some more paper.

Pages rolled in from the top, then came out the lower end bearing handwriting that was familiar to him. He waited for everything to come through, then took it to Rowen, who glanced at it.

"Qubine has completed some impressive projects recently, in time to be announced at the Feast," he said by way of explanation, quickly flicking through the information that just arrived.

"I see."

There was a brief pause. "Speaking of Qubine, have you seen him lately?"

"Not since that time at the Basilica."

"That is the same for me. He refused to come to meetings, worried that you might not react well to it."

"Tell him I'm not that petty."

Those clipped words made Rowen glance up at David. Not wanting to talk about this right now, David picked up the mug and went to make more coffee. In the few minutes it took the water to boil, Rowen had put his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

"All done?"

"No, but enough for now."

"I'm shocked."

"I don't want you to be here and just watch me work."

It wasn't as if it didn't make David happy to hear that, but instead of responding like he normally would, he just went over to the sofa and put down the drink, waiting for Rowen to go over, carefully watching his reaction.

Rowen literally stopped in his tracks when he noticed David was still wearing his holster belt. David's heart dropped a little. He knew this would happen, but he had still hoped for a different outcome.

Rowen sat down beside him, as if nothing happened.

They had to talk. Rowen couldn't keep carrying on like this. They couldn't keep carrying on like this.

"About the Feast..." David began, trying to sound as casual as he could, "that's when you'll become the new prelate."

"Yes." Rowen began to frown, puzzled. "And?"

David couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth, despite his promise to Rush before. He couldn't do this right. "I'm not ready for this." Rowen had turned towards him fully now, not expecting to hear these words. "I know I told you I could handle it. But the more I think about it, the more the idea frightens me. I won't be able to be the prelate's other half... I'm sorry. But I know you'll be just fine without me... I'll go and get my things."

A hand grasped David's wrist, not allowing him to stand up. Rowen said nothing for a long time, deep in thought. And then, "I won't accept the prelateship."

"What?"

"It's not fair to you."

"You can't just change your mind that easily on something that important! Not for me!"

"I've been considering this for a while. I will leave this job and we can—"

"No. Don't be crazy."

When Rowen spoke, his voice was unusually soft. "This isn't about my work, is it. This is about me not having treated you right."

"Of course not! You—"

"I know you don't want me to be the prelate, but I also know you'd support me even if it changed what we've already planned for the future, and I've taken that for granted. I haven't thought about it enough from your viewpoint. I've let you down." Rowen gave David's wrist a firm squeeze. "Becoming the prelate would help me fulfill a promise to Freida, but at your cost. I can't put you second to her."

The words, the excuses were stuck in David's throat. That wasn't what Rowen was supposed to say.

"We have a plan, and I won't move the goalpost. You've sacrificed enough for me already. I can't ask you to live your life in a way that suits me and what I promised an old lover; that would be insane."

And then the hand let go. Rowen dipped his head and, after a moment's thought, removed the ring on his finger, putting it down on the coffee table.

This was not happening. A man David was about to give up had just decided to give up everything for him. His career, his reputation... his sanity.

"No. _This_ is insane." He reached for the ring, pressing it back in Rowen's hand, then unbuckled his holster belt, putting that on the table instead. They had to talk about this, after all. "And if I stayed with you, you would go insane."

Rowen sighed heavily, not able to look at David. "I should have known. You'd rather I think you chickened out and have me angry with you."

"It just seems... easier. I had no idea you'd react like that."

"Choosing not to be the prelate is not a difficult decision to make when I consider the alternative."

"Please stop trying to make me cry."

"I've told you before: I know when something's precious and irreplaceable to me." Rowen put an arm around David. "I'm not going to lose my sanity and even if I were, that's better than you leaving... unless that's what you want."

Insane, insane, insane. Everything was insane. David buried his face in his lap. "Why would I want that?"

"I... don't know. Maybe there is someone who can treat you better than how I have done, in which case I can hardly blame you. Or maybe you think I won't get better and you're just wasting your time."

David would have got angry except he knew this was exactly what it looked like, when all he wanted was for no one to suffer from his bloodthirst. He could free Rowen from this trauma so much faster if he walked out of his life.

"David," said Rowen, with a smile in his voice, when David didn't respond, "take responsibility for this. You can't hit and run."

David couldn't help but chuckle. He sat up, stealing a look at Rowen's face. "If you put it that way. What do you want me to do then? Stay with you all the time? Stay away for a while?"

"Try everything. I trust you, truly I do. Even if my head seems to react differently, my heart trusts you unconditionally. So let's try everything. Throw me down the deep end and tie me to the bed. I will try anything."

So he'd realised. Now David felt embarrassed. Putting a hand on Rowen in a gesture of reassurance, he reached for the holster on the table and took out a black object amongst the clips, putting it in Rowen's hand, the one still holding Freida's ring. Rowen waited for an explanation, his brows gathered.

"You remember that at the Basilica, my friend Rush used something to stop me from moving. This is it. Hold down the button and count to five slowly. It'll work as long as I'm no more than twenty metres away."

"Would it hurt you?"

"That's not the point. It'll help you feel safer."

"I don't need it. I won't ever use it."

David knew this would be the response. "You saw what happened last time. It's also a way of protecting me from myself. Don't lose it, this is the third and last one I have."

"The other two are with Rush and..."

"Paris. People I love and trust."

That made Rowen pause, staring at the object in his hand. "By bringing this here with you, does it not mean you thought there might be a chance we could work this out?"

Seriously, nothing escaped Rowen. That small speckle of hopefulness David had not dared to examine closely made him take the switch with him here, and that turned out to be the right thing to do.

See, he wasn't as pessimistic a man as Rush always said he was.

"I guess I did think we could try to make things work."

"Not 'try', We will make this work."

David hoped Rowen was right.


	52. Not Everything is about You

[AR1141, summer]

Cranktown wasn't much different from how David remembered it, but the trip was not nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be because even though the town was the same, the faces were different. Yes, it was the same old man at the news stand and he was still selling cigarettes to underaged kids, it seemed, but there was no one else David could recognise.

After the gig at the far end of the town, they stopped by Le Chit-Chat Noir near the lift before going home, and there David spotted one more face he knew. He headed for the bar as Roeas and Zephyr wandered off to chat to someone, and waited until the man finished his current order and looked around to see who his next customer was.

There was a long, somewhat comical pause when their eyes met, the bartender clearly trying to decide if David was someone he knew. Then David smiled and wiggled his fingers at him, and he gasped.

"David?" he put down the cleaning cloth in his hand and minced over. "I knew it was you! But it's been so long and... oh, how've you been, gorgeous?"

After having the pronunciation of his name changed for so many years, David almost did a double-take hearing the old name from the bartender's mouth. "Living a better life now. Sorry I haven't dropped by... not very many good memories on this level. Except here, of course."

The bartender nodded in sympathy. "Oh, I don't blame you darling. I mean, after what happened at the seminary... but it's lovely to see you now, and to hear you're doing well! What'd you like, it's on the house!"

"Just a water will do."

"Pick something! Don't worry—"

David wasn't worried at all; as a youngster he had already had a lot of free alcohol from this man. "I'm teetotal now. Have been for a few years."

"Really?" The bartender seemed surprised, but not upset by the information. "Well, how about a snack then?"

"That'd be nice, thank you. And don't you worry, Roeas will drink enough for all three of us." Half turning, David pointed at Roeas and Zephyr. "Over there, the tall blonde. Zephyr's wife."

From nowhere came a bowl of nuts and a glass of water. It was getting very late and it was only a weekday, so the bar was getting quiet. The bartender picked up a glass by the sink and dried it idly.

"Oh my, I though he and Leanne were an item!"

David shook his head.

"Actually, David? I've been wondering about Zephyr. Is he..."

"Hmm?"

"Well, I thought I recognise him from the old days."

"Oh." Suddenly David understood what he meant. "If he doesn't remember you, don't take it to heart. He's forgotten quite a lot of things."

"That's fine, sometimes the past just isn't worth remembering. And he's married? Aww, bless! This is making me feel so old! How about you, hmm?"

How about him? David often wondered how he should describe his relationship with Rowen these days. "I have someone... I'm quite happy." Worried about Rowen, but happy. "Don't see myself ever getting married, but that doesn't matter really."

"You know, I listen to a lot of people here, and whenever they say something doesn't matter, it means it does. Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

"I really am all right, thanks." If it was anyone else, David would be irked by those words. But the bartender was an old friend so he didn't mind. "In fact, it's about time I buy you a drink. What'd you like?"

Watching David push himself up at the bar, lean over and put some money in the till, the bartender squealed and clapped his hands.

"I love it when a pretty boy buys me drinks!"

David smirked and winked at him.

"Just don't get any ideas. I'm taken."

 

When Roeas came out of the bathroom, David laughed gently and handed her a glass of water.

"Looks like someone drank too much last night."

Having just spent the last few minutes throwing up, Roeas was not amused. She downed the water, checked the time, and went out the door. Outside, the sky hadn't even started to brighten yet; it looked like it was an early start for her, and therefore Rowen too, today.

David hoped Rowen had slept well. He would see him tonight — even though Rowen could not talk in detail to his doctor, they agreed that predictability was helpful when it came to stress management, so David now went to Level 2 on the same days of the week, arriving at the same time. If they talked on the phone, Rowen was the one to call, never David. The idea of this didn't exactly fill David with joy, but as he had explained to Rowen, it was his fault for not being honest about his background sooner. Had he been more trusting and told Rowen about himself, then Rowen would have known he should leave the room that day, and none of this would have happened.

At that point, predictably, Rowen disagreed and blamed himself for being weak. But the fact was that some people were genetically more susceptible to mental trauma than others, and David did shoot him. Both points were inarguable, and they were willing to try every method to improve the situation.

And it wasn't as if this was hugely different from how they used to be before. Rowen was a busy man and it was always easier to know his schedule and work around it. And half of the time, when David called the cook would answer and tell him Rowen wasn't home yet, but she would tell him to call David back.

The new arrangement wasn't anything too different from before, and David could handle it. Still, he would be lying if he said he didn't mind at all. He just wished they could talk more often because he couldn't help but worry. Tonight, when Rowen saw him he would definitely ask why he looked like he hadn't slept at all, and David would have to find something to say that wasn't "I was too worried about you to sleep." Not just that, he was supposed to meet Torgal for tea after work at Royotia today and that overly-paternal man was bound to have all sorts of questions.

Damn, now he was worried over the fact that he was worried. Rowen was a grown man. He wasn't followed around by servants around the clock but he knew how to look after himself. Now stop this, David.

The phone started ringing. It was a welcomed distraction, in fact it could even be Rowen calling. David made his way around the sofa, sat down on the well-worn leather, and answered with more hopefulness in his voice than he'd intended to let on.

"Hello?"

There was a pause. "Is Roeas here please?"

It was David's turn to pause, his anticipation morphing into annoyance and, he hated to admit it, concern. "She left for work a minute ago."

"I see. Could you ask her to call me back?"

"I will."

"Thank you."

"Is that all?" David heard himself ask. "Nothing you want to say to me then?"

The silence that followed made David want to slam down the receiver and go to Chandelier right now so that he could strangle the man on the other end of the line.

Qubine said nothing, not even to parry the question with a witty comment which he was always so good at doing. After a long minute, David forced himself to stop gritting his teeth.

"I'll tell Roeas you called," he said, then put the receiver down.

Qubine betrayed his trust, but he wasn't going to force anyone to take sides. All of his friends could still be friends with Qubine if they wanted to. Jean Paulet, Rowen, Roeas. Their informed decision, their risk to take.

Maybe Qubine wasn't satisfied with stealing his heart and his sanity, and was going to take his support network as well. Looking at it, things must be progressing according to plan for him.

With a determined push, David stood up. He should get out of the house now. Sitting here thinking about Rowen or fuming about Qubine would just do his head in.

If he didn't storm into Qubine's house and kill the man before that.

 

There were good days and there were bad days. Usually Jean Paulet could tell with ease which kind of day it was as soon as he set eyes on Qubine, but this time he couldn't be sure.

Qubine had started working again after only a short break, so it wasn't a surprise to Jean Paulet when the maid told him Master Qubine was in his workshop. He buzzed the panel outside, there was no response but the door wasn't locked, so he stepped inside to find his friend at the far wall under the windows, lying on the floor and between the wheels of a bicycle.

On the bad days, Qubine could spend hours lying in his bed or on the floor, doing nothing and barely responsive. On the good days, he could be like his old self, working non-stop or reading a book whilst listening to Jean Paulet and feigning complete disinterest. So what kind of day was it for this dear friend today?

"Dare I ask what you are doing?" As Jean Paulet got closer, he saw that his friend was fiddling with the mechanical parts, and it wasn't a regular bicycle, but a tandem one with two seats. Unlikely to be a project for Cardinal Rowen or Antourion.

Qubine gave Jean Paulet a cursory glance before his focus returned to the task. There was grease on his fingers and on his face, as if he was a car mechanic. "Wedding gift for your sister."

Oh, how sweet! Charlotte and Paris weren't tying the knot for another few weeks yet, but it was typical of Qubine to plan ahead, and something like this would make a lovely present for people who could already afford all the things they wanted.

Jean Paulet hoped that by the time the wedding came along, his friend would be ready to attend that kind of social event again, or even just be healthy enough, in both body and mind, to be somewhere that was not his own or Jean Paulet's house. Emmy had said that Qubine was a tough cookie and he would work on getting better at his own pace; even if it seemed to make no sense that someone affected by depression could be motivated to get better, his nature was complete opposite to his condition. As long as he was correctly medicated and looked after, all Jean Paulet needed to do was give him a nudge once in a while.

Was this the right time to nudge? "Will you be attending the wedding, mon ami?"

Seemingly concentrated on what he was doing, Qubine didn't answer the question. That was probably a "no", then. Jean Paulet fought down a sigh.

"Come, put down that wrench and let's get something to eat. It's already dark out, but I bet you haven't had dinner, hmm?" he said. "It'll soon be time for your next round of tests. Emmy will have a lot to say if your scores don't improve."

At first there was no response from Qubine, as if he was deliberately ignoring the words, but Jean Paulet was used to this and just waited. Then a minute later, Qubine awkwardly shimmied his way out from under the bicycle, and wiped his hands on a rag that was tucked under the waistband of his trousers.

"Tell the maid what you want to eat. I need a shower."

"I was about to suggest that we go to mine."

"I'm expecting a phone call. If you can't stay, don't trouble yourself." A long pause. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean, nigaud." Jean Paulet chuckled.

A little while later, he sat down in one of the rooms that faced the back garden to wait for food and his friend. Emmy was home with their daughter, so right now he only needed to worry about Qubine, or their newly adopted son as Emmy called him in private.

Next week there would be another health check scheduled for Qubine; when Emmy had her first consultation with him she suggested it was time for him to have a check up, and as expected the results were not so good. It was difficult to put a number to it but she said Qubine's organ functions were significantly lower than other people his size and age, and she had some serious concerns regarding his liver in particular. Given the way the man lived his life, this was no surprise, but Emmy said there was a lot of room for improvement.

What Qubine was truly thinking, Jean Paulet could not tell, but he had a feeling that everything his friend was doing right now, not just the work he took on but even things like following advice on improving his health, he wasn't doing for himself. It was only so that his family and friends would not suffer from worry. If nobody cared, then Qubine wouldn't, either.

If only David knew about this, and would say something. Just a few words like "I hope you're doing all right" would make so much difference. But if David and Qubine were talking to each other, then Jean Paulet wouldn't need to be here now, waiting to have second dinner after already eating with his family to make sure that Qubine was eating and resting as he should, and having the company of people who cared.

Didn't Rush say he was going to talk to David about this? Either that didn't go well or it didn't happen. Jean Paulet needed to find out, he decided.

He gathered his thoughts when Qubine returned, shortly followed by a couple of servants with some snacks. Looking over Qubine's shoulder, he saw that someone was about to come in with a wine trolley but was told by the maid to take it away. She was an attentive woman and he was glad she was here to keep an eye on things because otherwise Jean Paulet might have to force Qubine to move in with him.

It definitely wasn't a bad day today for Qubine, but he seemed distracted and wasn't really listening to Jean Paulet talk about his day at work.

"Where is Pater?"

Qubine checked his watch. "Working on his comic, most likely."

"You could've had dînner with him."

"I could," said Qubine, "but he knows that I don't want to."

Jean Paulet wasn't quite sure how to process that piece of information. "Because you'd rather sup with me, mon ami?"

"I eat with you because you are a force of nature that returns twice as annoying if turned down." A roll of the eyes, followed by a silent sigh. "Pater keeps the distance I need. Don't talk to him about me, it's hard enough for him already."

"I shall not even pretend to understand," said Jean Paulet, putting down his fork so that he could dab on a non-existent tear with his napkin. "But from that I can gather you don't want to see the people you love, which means I have no place in your heart, since you're willing to see me."

Qubine gave him a very bored look. "What do you want then? A kiss?"

"Scandaleux! My lips are exclusive for the two girls in my life!" Jean Paulet exclaimed, then extended his hand across the table, palm facing down. "You may kiss my hand, however."

Qubine's reaction was to flip his fork around, holding it as if he was about to stab something with it. Just when Jean Paulet jerked his hand back, there were two quick knocks on the door and the maid entered the room.

"Master, a phone call for you," she said, holding the telephone in her hand.

"I won't be long." Qubine wiped his mouth and left the table; he wasn't going to take this call in front of Jean Paulet. Going to the maid, he took the receiver from her with one hand whilst his other hand pulled the door close behind him.

"Qubine speaking... yes, I've gone through his files..."

 

David didn't even pretend to not be listening to Roeas's conversation. What had she and Qubine got to talk about?

The answer to that came in the form of a question.

"And? What exactly was done to my husband?" she asked, frowning. As Qubine explained, David stood, went over and all but glared at her.

What in the world was Roeas thinking, why was she talking to Qubine about Zephyr's past?

"Hold on," said Roeas, looking up at David. She covered the receiver with a hand. "Listen if you must, but right now I don't need your opinion. If you think can't keep yourself out of my business, then please fuck off right this moment."

David clenched his fists, took a step back before turning around to return to where he was sitting before. Roeas had never sworn at him before but that wasn't why he backed off; her tone was beyond serious and he could probably find out more if he didn't interrupt her for now.

"I'm not keen on the idea, but it doesn't look like I have a choice," she told Qubine after listening for a while. "I need to talk to Zephyr first... not yet... tomorrow? I've got late shift... midnight... if you're fine with that... I thought you might say that... okay."

The call was finished. Roeas got up.

"Roeas!"

Heading for the stairs, she glanced at David.

"It's not always about you."

 

Something felt different, but David couldn't put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was just that it had been a while since he last received a blow job. It was passionate, but there was something reassuring about it as well. He couldn't tell if "reassuring" was a good thing to feel about sex, but it felt right so he wasn't going to over-analyse it now.

Studying David's smiling face, Rowen smiled as well. He shifted onto his side so that their eyes could meet easily.

"Feel better?"

"Hmm?"

"Something is upsetting you."

David thought about earlier. He had been talking about his day at Royotia when Rowen thoroughly distracted him. "If you'd let me continue I would've got to it," he said, "eventually."

Rowen had a knowing look. "Maybe. Or maybe not."

Well, of course Rowen could tell; it wasn't like this at first, but by now he had learn to read David's moods like an expert. But David wondered what he could say. He didn't even know what it was. A little squabble between housemates? No. Him being annoyed and worried about Roeas contacting Qubine? Yes, even if it seemed low of him to question Roeas's judgement. And he didn't want to get upset over this; he wasn't a petty man. He didn't want to be a petty man. And if that was how he was, he didn't want anyone to know. And he didn't want to mention Qubine in front of Rowen.

"Can we have some post-coital snuggling instead of talking?" he asked, but Rowen only looked a little amused. Well, it was worth a try. "Someone said something today and... it made me wonder if I've been really self-centred."

That made Rowen narrow his eyes. "You? Don't be ridiculous."

"Just in general, since the day I lost my head I've probably been acting like a special snowflake." This felt very much like he was talking to Rush, but David carried on. "Not everything's about me, but everyone has just been too nice to tell me to knock it off."

Rowen nodded, not to say that he agreed, but just to show he was listening. His opinion wasn't really required here, since David was simply thinking out loud.

"I guess I should just ask them."

Rowen nodded again, this time in agreement.

"Now can I have my snuggle?"

"I suppose so."

 

The trip home was quiet apart from a group of young men — that was being generous; some of them were pretty much still boys — with whom David had to share the lift, along with a few other late night passengers. With a few drinks in their systems they were starting to get a bit rowdy and was preventing David from thinking properly as well as frightening an old man, so he had a quick word with them. He only did it very rarely but according to his friends he could be extremely scary when he chose to, and apparently he'd still got it, since the lads did not make another noise for the rest of the journey. David felt a little bit bad because it looked like a birthday celebration, but he really wanted to be able to hear his own thoughts.

Once the decision was made that he should talk to Zephyr, it felt easier to deal with the idea of not staying at Rowen's for the night — sometimes sharing a bed with David wasn't a problem, sometimes it was and only Rowen could tell which it was on a particular day. David knew it made him feel awful to have to say these things but honesty was really the best policy.

Tonight wasn't a good night to stay over, so he was on his way home, thinking about how he should talk to Zephyr. Something must be happening. Logically-speaking David would be the person Zephyr should turn to, but perhaps he didn't want to give David more to worry about, or David just had such a poor attitude these days that Zephyr didn't want to tell him anything. Hopefully it was the former.

Better approach this very carefully though, in case Roeas was doing something behind Zephyr's back.

As he turned the corner into 11th Street and neared his house, he looked up at the huge SWEET HOME sign hung on the front, something Vashyron won at some event or another, and saw two figures on the roof. Zephyr and Pater. Thinking about it, it had been a long time since Pater last visited.

Zephyr gave a lazy wave of the hand when he spotted David. Without enhanced eyesight, it took a bit longer for Pater to see David and when he did, he said something to Zephyr, and the two moved towards the direction of Zephyr's room.

This would have meant nothing to David had he not seen the way Pater's face darkened upon seeing him.

Pater had to work tomorrow so he shouldn't be staying too late. David waited downstairs, a glass of water on the table and a book on his lap. Half an hour later Pater appeared with Zephyr, who walked him to the door. They exchanged a few words, said they would meet for dinner tomorrow, and then Pater was gone, not responding to anything David said, not even looking at him, as if he didn't exist.

This, coming from one of the kindest, gentlest people David knew.

Zephyr looked at the door, then at David, arching a questioning eyebrow. David breathed out deeply, resigned.

"He's Qubine's brother. I guess if anyone is going to take sides, it's him."

Zephyr turned away, checking that the front door was locked properly. "Speaking of Qubine, Roeas told me what happened this morning."

Not sure what to say, David reached for the easiest reply. "Is everything all right?"

It looked like Zephyr was considering something, then he walked across the living room, past David and into the kitchen. "We're going to see Qubine tomorrow."

David watched him get something to drink. "What for?"

"It doesn't affect you."

"Zephyr, I know I get touchy when it comes to that man, but I'm also asking because I'm worried about you."

"You don't trust him, I know. Look, if anything goes wrong, I'm pretty sure Roeas and I can take him on," said Zephyr, glancing at David and swallowing a sigh. "Don't look at me like that. It really doesn't concern you."

"You're going to talk to Qubine about the past and you want me to believe I shouldn't be concerned?"

Zephyr downed a glass of water, then put it down with some finality. "Fine. I just got told a few hours ago and I'm still trying to process it... Roeas is pregnant."

Ah.

David stood there, at a loss for words. This truly was none of his business, and not something that would ever happen to him.

Shit, he had been so intrusive and rude to Roeas this morning on such a delicate issue. Judging from the reactions, this definitely wasn't planned and she must be so confused right now.

"We don't know what we might do yet. Gonna see what Qubine has to say first. Then I think I'm going to get myself sterilised, goddammit."

David managed a dry chuckle. "Maybe I should too, just in case."

Zephyr snorted, brushing past David to go back upstairs. David put a hand on his shoulder. "Be careful with Qubine."

"You know what Roeas's like. If anything's weird, she'll know," said Zephyr. If he was as wary about the scientist as David or just saying very clever words, David couldn't tell. "Keep it quiet, okay? I don't think Vashyron's ready to be a grandad yet."

David smirked and nodded. "Please tell Roeas I'm sorry about this morning, I'd say it myself but I guess it'll be better if I just shut up altogether."

"Yeah, I'll tell her. 'Night."

Zephyr disappeared upstairs, and David put his things away and went to bed.

Pater, the first person he made friends with at college in Chandelier. David had probably lost this friend for good.

As for Zephyr, it was reassuring to know Zephyr held nothing against him and trusted him enough to disclose something with such enormity. The idea of them allowing Qubine to be privy to this gave David a sense of dread, but it might be the only way forward right now. He was the only person who might have the answer to the question.

What could be inside Roeas right now? A human, or a monster?


	53. Deus Ex Machina

[AR1141, summer]

The first time they met six years ago, like how Zephyr met most new people, was because of a job. Some minor problems with a new gang needed to be sorted out and the local authorities couldn't spare the manpower to do it, so Pater got hold of Vashyron, who took Leanne and Zephyr with him. Leanne was new to the job and it was a good chance to show her how to issue a firm warning and how to respond if that didn't work. As for Zephyr, he just didn't want Leanne to be out of his sight. Vashyron had laughed and likened him to a guard dog, but let him do as he liked, probably knowing it was good rehabilitation for him.

His first impression of Pater was mixed. Easily excitable and possibly moronic, seemingly harmless, but Zephyr had long learned to never judge a book by its cover. Looking back, he couldn't say how they became friends. In the beginning he thought Pater was using him as an excuse to get close to Leanne, and didn't want to associate himself with this overweight and over-earnest guy, but he'd grown to like and respect him. Who would have thought.

He didn't come to Pater's manor often though, mostly because Pater liked going to Ebel for some reason. Even so, the doorman and a couple of the staff did recognise him, and remarked on how it had been a while since he last paid a visit. He murmured some excuse and went to join Pater for dinner.

He had half expected Leanne to show up at some point, but it seemed like Pater somehow knew he shouldn't be inviting the girlfriend today. Qubine wasn't at the table either, apparently because he was busy, although the way Pater looked when he said it meant he wasn't telling the truth. But never mind, Zephyr would be seeing Qubine soon enough.

"So why do you need to see my brother?"

"Roeas's got some science stuff. I'm just tagging along; I don't really understand it. She's coming here after work."

"Hmm." Pater's gaze remained lowered on his half-eaten dinner. "He invited her?"

"It's better to talk in person, apparently," said Zephyr, trying to read his friend's face. Pater seemed confused. "What?"

"Nothing. That's good. Be nice and don't bully him, okay?"

"What the hell do you think we'd do?" asked Zephyr, incredulous for a moment, and then he realised: this was about David. Regarding that, Zephyr had been withholding judgement on the whole thing, and he was prepared to remain reasonably cautious. Like he'd told David last night, he and Roeas could bring hell if they wanted to, so he wasn't too worried.

But if he was to be honest, he thought Qubine was pretty harmless anyway.

A long time ago Roeas once said something about the man being in a complicated position and was prepared to die young, or die old and alone, because of David. The "die young" bit fell through at the Basilica, so...

"Oh, I'm not saying you'd be mean to him! But... it's been a long time since he last saw anyone who don't live or work here, apart from Jean Paulet. I'm surprised he'd invite anyone... good surprise of course."

"Huh."

"So please just be extra nice to him."

"We're here for his help, not to make him miserable."

The only thing Pater had in response was a meek smile.

 

The first thing Roeas did, after literally doing a double-take as soon as they stepped inside the room, was to stand behind Zephyr, as if displaying a rare moment of weakness. Then she went and stood at the far corner of the room, opposite from Qubine.

They were in an office, or a library, or a drawing room of some sort, Zephyr didn't care enough to tell. There was a desk but Qubine opted to stand near the windows at the far wall. After taking a good look Zephyr could tell why his wife was suddenly uncomfortable; she must've picked up something with her weird sixth sense. Qubine looked so weary Zephyr would've believed it if he was told the man had just climbed his way up from Level 12 with his bare hands.

"What the hell happened to you?" Zephyr asked despite knowing he probably shouldn't. The worst that could happen was he wouldn't get an answer.

And he didn't. Qubine looked at him, then at Roeas, decided his guests had picked where they wanted to stand, and began to speak.

"There isn't much to go on. Sullivan and my mother's work did not get as far as reproduction — ironic, yes," he said. "And my own research over the years was also not in that direction."

"Right," said Roeas, indicating for Qubine to carry on.

"If I am to start work on it now, it will take longer than you have time for. Any discoveries — and they would only be theoretical — would come too late for you."

"So what _can_ you tell us right now?"

"Based on my current limited understanding, there is no health-related reason to think you cannot carry your pregnancy to full term," said Qubine, hands held behind his back. "Whether the child would be more like you, Zephyr, someone from the outside or be something entirely foreign to us, I am not confident enough to even make a guess. If you want, there are tests we can run which may offer some insight, it depends on how soon the potential differences become apparent. But I don't know what those differences might be. Not knowing what we're looking for, they could be a waste of time, but I would still recommend getting them done."

Tests. Zephyr knew something like that would be involved. "What kind of tests? What'd you do to Roeas?"

"Not to her physically, but I'd require blood and urine samples. If we're lucky I might be able to get an ultrasound scanner working, which is entirely safe and non-intrusive. That's all that can be done really; even if Sullivan was here he would tell you the same thing."

Just like a health screening then. Zephyr breathed a sigh of relief; hearing the word "tests" come out of the mouth of a scientist made him twitchy and he was not going to apologise for it.

Going to stand near Roeas, he tried to figure out what she was thinking. He had never wanted to be a father. He wasn't suited for it, had never got on well with children, and the thought of bringing a new life to this kind of world just felt ridiculous. But up till now Roeas still hadn't talked much about what she wanted to do.

As if she'd picked up on his insecurity — and she probably really had — she took his hand and squeezed it.

"So that's what the science is telling you. How about your intuition?" she asked, not looking at Qubine at all.

An eyebrow arched. "You're asking me about intuition?"

"You've got pretty good intuition, you just don't believe it until you can justify the feeling with science." Roeas smirked. "Put it this way: what'd you do if you were us?"

Qubine's face changed from incredulous to slightly unconcerned. "Have it terminated."

This guy really did not mince his words, Zephyr thought. No wonder David called him a sociopath.

"Why?"

"Too many variables."

"Not a situation you like dealing with?"

"No. And the weight of this so-called 'humanity' we have is already enough to topple Basel, there is no need to introduce another life into this tragedy."

"Poetic."

"Pessimistically realistic, I think you'll find. But what do I know? Your child could be the one person who could save this world. This could all be within Zenith's calculations."

Zenith. That was one thing Zephyr had yet to explain to Roeas in enough detail. "Do you really think so?" he asked.

"I don't know what to think. Perhaps this is the start of a new breed of humans, by bringing the two worlds together. You would need to have more than one child and there would be some degrees of incest but interestingly, that coincides with some parts of the Scriptures."

It did, Zephyr knew that because he had read the Scriptures countless of times by now. But the mere thought of it made blood drain from his head. Were their lives really being dictated by Zenith even now?

"I'm not sure how I feel about this idea," he mumbled.

When Qubine shrugged, his shoulders looked sharp and thin through his shirt, like those of an undernourished child in Albona. "It's mere conjecture. What do any of us know about Zenith's plans? As it is, I don't even know why I'm still alive. Perhaps it's so that we can have this conversation."

Two people in this room had survived bullets through their heads, Zephyr thought to himself. This seemed like the most unlikely and miraculous coincidence, but if they were all just part of Zenith's grand scheme...

"Well, whatever it is, we don't even know what we're doing with this one right now and my husband isn't having children with other women." Roeas exchanged a smirk with Zephyr. "Sorry, darling."

Both men in the room snorted.

"Enough pointless theories and existential crises. We have a machine for a god but I doubt the situation would be resolved in a deus ex machina fashion. If you want the tests, we can collect the required samples right now." Qubine stepped forward slightly, now standing behind the desk. "And I'll try to get an ultrasound scanner up and running."

Zephyr eyed him. "And how much do you want for this? Or is this the case of owing you a favour?"

"Roeas can tell you the terms and conditions."

 

They said goodbye to Pater on the way out. Roeas looked much more relaxed after the front door closed behind them.

"Don't get me wrong, I like Qubine, but let's try not to have to see him too often."

Zephyr studied Roeas's face. "You didn't look too happy in there, no."

"I thought David was bad when he gets in a mood, but he has nothing on Qubine," she sighed. "I suppose at least one of them is eating."

Yeah, about that. Pater never mentioned it but he clearly knew what was going on. That should mean something was being done about it, right? Pater wouldn't let this sort of thing go.

"So what do we owe him? A tattoo of his name across the chest?"

"Nothing. Just don't talk about him with David."

"Huh."

So that was how things were.

"Yup, 'huh' indeed."

"And are we really not saying anything?"

"I don't know. Are we keeping this baby?"

Not one to dodge around a problem. Typical of Roeas. But being forward with the question didn't mean Zephyr had a quick answer. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching.

"Before this, I've never thought about it much. It didn't seem like it's possible." But that was probably just because he was young. He was married, but still had the mind of a child rather than adult. "I... don't think parenthood suits us."

Shit, what if Roeas wanted it? Then he'd just said the wrong thing. Sure, five minutes before their runaway marriage she did suddenly ask "you won't want kids, right?" and they agreed the idea was stupid, but now that it was actually happening, it was an entirely different story.

"And if this kid physically develops like those people from outside, there might be a problem."

"Yeah," said Zephyr. "What are you really thinking? I know I said being parents don't suit us but... if this is something you want..."

The tree-lined road opened up towards the end, leading them onto the better-trafficked streets of Level 3. Zephyr's footsteps stopped; he didn't want to talk about this with other people around them, but since they started this conversation, they might as well finish it.

Roeas probably wanted to keep it. If she didn't, why bother consulting Qubine at all?

A few steps ahead of him, she stopped, half turned towards him with an undecipherable expression. After a long moment, she cocked her head and put a hand on her hip. "I haven't decided. Let me think about it."

He wasn't her, and couldn't read people the way she could, but he knew her well enough to tell the easy way in which she replied likely had nothing to do with how she was feeling inside. But the best thing to do right now probably was to accept that and give her time and space to consider.

He didn't want it, plain and simple. But if Roeas felt different, he couldn't and wouldn't tell her no.

They continued their way towards the lift. Her arm slipped easily into the crook of his.

"So, are we telling David about Qubine?" he asked again. It was clear that Qubine didn't want David to be a part of his life anymore, but whether it was because he hadn't forgiven him for that bullet, or something else, Zephyr didn't know and it wasn't any of his business.

"Wait until we don't need his help anymore, then we'll decide. Let's not risk pissing him off for now."

"Good idea."

 

All the decorative lights were on in the living room. It was the middle of the night but none of them worked or lived regular hours anyway, so Roeas wasn't surprised at all. Downstairs, she found Leanne and David sitting together, poring over a hairstyle magazine. Spotting the third person, Leanne held up the magazine, showing her a particular page.

"What do you think about this style?" she asked with slightly exaggerated seriousness, pointing at a girl sporting a soft bob cut with straight fringe.

"On him?" Roeas eyed David, smirking. "It'd look fantastic."

David guffawed. "That style doesn't require any product. I'd get hairspray withdrawal."

Snorting, Roeas took a better look at the page, and then at Leanne. "Looks nice in the picture, but it'd be a bit ageing on you."

"That's what David said as well." Turning the magazine around, Leanne studied her choice again. "You really think so?"

"Take it from the queers."

"Hehe, I guess I should trust you guys. I'm going to show Pater tomorrow and see if he can help me pick out something. Going to bed now, otherwise I'll get eyebags! Goodnight!"

After Leanne was gone, Roeas and David's eyes met, each waiting for the other to say something first, then Roeas decided to continue doing what she came down here to do: look for snacks in the cupboards.

"I was talking to Zephyr earlier," David said, not moving from the sofa, his voice soft and quiet.

"I know. I thought you two'd eloped." The two of them had taken a long walk together, and Roeas had vaguely wondered if they were going to leave Basel and not come home ever again. Why she thought that, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was because the option was always there for Zephyr, to just leave everything behind. "And?"

"It was just in case he needed to talk. I don't ask questions."

So he really took the "keep yourself out of my business or fuck off" comment to heart. "There's nothing to tell you anyway. We haven't decided on anything." She pulled out a bag of microwave popcorn. Perfect. "But I know he doesn't want it. And yes that does mean I'm having mixed feelings, because otherwise I'd have got rid of it already."

David said nothing. Roeas put the bag in the microwave.

"It's still not your business, but it also kind of is. In case you ever want to have biological children, I suppose you need to know what might happen," she said. "And if I do have this baby, it might be one more person who'd live as long as you might."

She might be able to leave something behind, a life that defied the rules of this godforsaken world. A life that, long after she was dead, could stay by Zephyr's side so that he wouldn't have to feel he was alone.

Clearly unsure how he should react to this information, David gave a slow nod. They stayed silent until the popcorn was ready, then Roeas poured it into a bowl.

"Want some?"

"I'm watching my weight."

"Seriously, I'm the manliest person in this house."

David chuckled. "I can't deny that. Vashyron might take offense though."

"He can start taking offense if he stops using my concealer every time he has a breakout," she said. "Anyway. Are you going to Rowen's tomorrow?"

"I should be."

"I've got late shift, will probably see you then."

"Right. Goodnight. And... thanks."

She eyed him, but decided not to respond to that. She told him those things because he was the only person she could rely on when it came to Zephyr's issues. She didn't need his gratitude and he should know that. As she headed up the stairs, snacks in her hand, David called behind her.

"Roeas?"

"What?"

"Did Qubine say anything about me at all?"

"No."

"I see."

"But what if he did?"

"But he didn't. There is no point in considering the other scenario."

"A smart way to dodge the question."

"What can I say, I'm a smart arse."

She snorted and left him alone.

Thinking about it, Leanne was often at Pater's, so she must know something was going on. A brief mention of Qubine's name in front of Vashyron earlier brought a reaction that told Roeas the man was also aware of it. So, of the five people living in this house, the only one who didn't know what the hell was happening with Qubine was the ex-best friend.

All part of Zenith's design, probably. She would have never believed it, but from what she'd learned from Zephyr, there was something that could be more cruel than human beings — the god, the puppeteer they had built for themselves.

Basel was both a haven and a cage. Maybe rather than consider the possibilities of the child inside her, she should just ask Qubine to do work on her instead, make her the same as Zephyr. Then they could walk away from this cage together, hand in hand.

She wondered who would say "no" to that faster, Zephyr or Qubine.


	54. Tent Date, Part Deux

[AR1141, summer]

The sky was clear, and the temperature had cooled down a lot from this afternoon's scorching heat. With the pleasant breeze, this was a perfect summer evening. In the past, a night like this would usually see Jean Paulet, Qubine and David sitting outside on a patio, in a garden, at a restaurant with al fresco dining, any place where they could gather and chat the night away.

Tonight, however, Jean Paulet was having another tent date with David, which he also enjoyed, and he told himself not to dwell on how things had changed. It was a terrible combination of circumstances that made things how they were now, it wasn't what his friends wanted but they were all trying their best.

Well, he hoped Qubine was trying; Emmy was not happy at all with the results of the last health check, saying Qubine hadn't made enough improvement physically or mentally. She mumbled something about medication levels and timetables and nutrition, and he thought about suggesting asking Qubine to come and live with them for a while, but he hadn't dared to say it out loud.

"Refill?"

"Yes please," said Jean Paulet, pushing his mug forward so that David could pour him more of the non-alcoholic fruit punch. Not the usual beverage of choice for most campers, but they were no average campers.

"Ah, I hope I'll be able to do this with Agnetha when she gets a bit older," he mused out loud. "I don't think I can be a 'cool dad', but hopefully I can be a father she won't mind spending time with."

David smiled. "I'm sure things will be fine."

"Despite how I'm definitely the sort of parent every child would be embarrassed to be seen with?"

That made David snort. "You know what they say: the first step is admitting there is a problem..."

Jean Paulet would kick his friend for saying that, but doing so would knock their drinks over, so he settled for a glare instead.

"I actually do still find it hard to believe you're a father. But you seem to be very good at it."

Sometimes even Jean Paulet himself felt the same. Was he an adult already, or was he a child playing at being a grown up?

"Do you think it's possible to grow old without growing up, mon ami? I love my family and my job, but I still resent the idea of being an adult."

"I'm sure you can still do silly dancing and we can still have tent dates when we're seventy." David chuckled. "I might still look more or less the same as I do now, though; you can grow old but not grow up, whereas I'll grow up without growing old."

"Don't grow up — it's terribly dull. Exploit your eternal youth!"

"I shall try."

Perhaps it would not exactly be eternal youth, and it was probably more a curse than a blessing, but it was good that they could joke about it.

"Agnetha is going to be so confused when she notices Uncle David doesn't seem to age over the years," Jean Paulet said. "And if you have children..."

The words seemed to have made David recoil a little. "Biological ones? Who knows how those would turn out. Besides, how am I going to have children?"

"By some clever science" was the fast answer, but Jean Paulet knew better than to mention science. "Je ne sais pas? Can you? I read somewhere that in the old days, homosexual men still married women and procreated."

David found the idea hilarious, disgusting and offensive. "If I close my eyes and think of Rowen, then perhaps? It's not an idea I'm keen on. And it'd require finding a woman willing to do that."

Oh, what a horrible thought, doing something against your own sexuality. "You've not talked about the issue of children with Rowen, then?" he asked, then added, "I would say 'I don't mean to pry', but that would be a lie."

"We've only been together for half a year!"

"Really? It feels much longer than that."

"But, well," David shook his head in mild disbelief, "if he wants to have his own biological children, he'll have to find a woman."

"You would let him? Honestly?"

"I don't have the right equipment, so what can I do? And since he's a public figure, I suppose it wouldn't be a case of finding someone who'd have his children, it'd be finding a wife."

That was so depressing and absurdly unfair and Jean Paulet felt bad for bringing it up. He shifted, taking his drink with him, so that he could sit face to face with his friend. "Mon ami—"

"But you know what Rowen's like. He doesn't do anything without first considering from all angles. If kids were an important factor it would've come up a long time ago, so I'm quite sure everything is fine." David refilled their glasses again. "Now stop making that face."

That was true. David was always so good at giving reassurances.

"Besides, I don't even know if we have a future together."

What? "Why do you say that? Is something the matter?"

The smile was gone from David's lips, but what was that expression? Regret? Confusion?

"I don't know, to be honest. I would tell you about it, but I don't even know what to say."

Even so, Jean Paulet didn't feel that he could just let this go. Just as he was about to ask questions, hopefully guiding his friend to put his feelings into coherent words, they heard footsteps on grass outside their tent, followed by Emmy's voice.

"Jean?"

Swallowing a grumble about his wife's timing, Jean Paulet replied. "Oui?"

"Agnetha won't sleep. I think she needs daddy to sing to her."

Curses. Not something he could talk himself out of. With a promise that he would return soon (and that he would also sing David to sleep if David wanted) he ducked out of the tent and followed his wife back inside the manor.

Where he found Qubine in one of the front rooms.

"Mon ami!" he said as Emmy left them on their own. He was quite sure there was no arrangement for Qubine to come tonight. Thank heavens Emmy was discreet. "How lovely of you to visit!"

With the layers he was wearing and his hair down, one could hardly tell that Qubine was far from healthy. But as soon as he shrugged off his coat — the one he received from David last Christmas, Jean Paulet noted — it became obvious. This was just like early last year when he became far too thin, but now even more heartbreakingly so.

"I had to use some lab equipment at Aetersyl. Thought I should drop by before heading home," Qubine said.

That would explain the coat in the summer warmth — Qubine didn't want anyone else to concern themselves over his health. It must be something important enough for Qubine to leave home to do.

"Oh? Anything interesting?" Jean Paulet waved at one of the servants, gesturing for tea.

"Just running a few tests for someone in need of help. Nothing that'd spin or make music, if that's what you're asking."

Jean Paulet pulled a disappointed face.

"Sometimes I wonder if you steal Agnetha's baby mobile to play with it."

"Yes, I hang it over my marital bed," Jean Paulet deadpanned, pulling out a chair to sit down so that Qubine would do the same. He could never make himself ask Qubine to leave, so David would just have to wait. Hopefully Qubine wouldn't stay for long, otherwise David would get worried and come in to check.

What would happen if the two of them met now, Jean Paulet wondered. Could this be what both of them actually needed?

"Perhaps I will get you one for your birthday."

"I feel the love. Truly I do."

Tea was served. Qubine added two sugars into his and paused when Jean Paulet dropped a third cube in, but didn't protest, pouring more milk into it instead, presumably to counter the sweetness.

"If you'd come sooner we could've had sweets. I'm afraid we finished the lasts of the tarte tatin at supper."

"Sounds fancy. A special occasion?"

"Just something I made yesterday when I had a bit of spare time."

Qubine lifted an eyebrow. "You really are getting into baking."

"It's fun! You follow recipes to make something... it's like alchemy. In fact, it's like science with edible results."

"Last time I ate one of my experiment results it didn't go well."

"You did what?" Jean Paulet exclaimed, then immediately felt stupid because his friend was clearly just joking. But... this was it! This was something they could do together, like he had with David before! "Come by again tomorrow and I'll show you!"

Qubine pulled back in his seat slightly. "Being in the same room as you while you play with an oven? Do I look like an idiot to you?"

Jean Paulet fluttered his eyelashes until Qubine sighed.

"I'll see. I may be busy."

Busy? Was it because he had work or he just didn't want to commit? "Just let me know when you are free."

"You should spend more time with your family and other friends."

"I already do." Ah, Qubine was getting into one of those moods again. After a while it had really started to grate, but Jean Paulet always reminded himself that Qubine couldn't help it, and it was a good thing that he spoke his mind. Keeping a smile wasn't always easy but it was the least he could do. "Don't be a party pooper. If we did it together it'd make me look less strange!"

There were obviously words Qubine wanted to say, but this time he kept them to himself. All he did was sigh and sip his tea, looking long-suffering as ever. Jean Paulet took a moment to peek into the corridor — what if David came in to check or to use bathroom?

"I will try to call you tomorrow, but I promise nothing." Putting down his cup, his tea barely drunk, Qubine stood and pulled on his coat, freeing his hair from under the collar. "Sorry for calling unannounced."

"Mon ami?"

"Your other guest is waiting, and I'd like to head home."

There wasn't much Jean Paulet could say; Qubine was an observant man. "You're always welcome here. I love seeing you, truly I do."

No response from Qubine.

"I'm not ashamed of you, I just assume you're not in the mood to see anyone else, you do know that?"

"Yes," said Qubine, eyes lowered. "There is grass on your shoes. Another tent date?"

"The campest sort of dates." Trust Qubine to notice that too. Now he really was going to make a quick exit, and Jean Paulet couldn't blame him. The urge to drag him to David was so strong, but meddling like that could make matters seriously worse if it didn't work out. Jean Paulet would have to ask Emmy for her professional opinion first.

A ghost of a smile crossed Qubine's lips. "I remember. Enjoy being camp. I should go."

He buttoned up his coat and left the room, declining a servant's offer to show him out. Too many words unspoken, but Jean Paulet heard them anyway. Yes, he honestly enjoyed Qubine's company. Yes, he really understood Qubine was doing his best. No, Qubine wasn't a burden. No, Qubine wasn't dragging him down.

He would talk to Emmy about inviting Qubine to stay with them for a little while. She liked to say that it felt like they were parenting him anyway, hopefully she would be fine with this.

"All day and all night you worry about if they're eating well, if they're sleeping right..." said David when Jean Paulet returned and sat down on the sleeping bag. "Being a parent is hard work." 

It was. "But it doesn't feel like hard work when you do it out of love."

"I suppose."

"Hmm, you were talking about your amoureux just before I left..."

"I was? I don't remember that."

"Looking away innocently won't save you from this conversation, mon ami."

David lowered his gaze, much in the same way Qubine had done earlier.

"There have been a few problems but we've worked around them. We're really happy together but... there's something _odd_ and I don't know what it is, so I don't know how to talk about it."

Yes, Rush said David told him there were a few hiccups with the relationship, which was why Rush decided not to talk to him about Qubine yet. But "something odd"? Jean Paulet could only look at his friend in puzzlement. David shrugged at him, helpless and confused.

"We're happy and we love each other, that's supposed to be all that matters, right?"

Was there something else David was looking for? But if David didn't know it himself, then Jean Paulet couldn't possibly know.

"Maybe, mon ami."


	55. Tragic

[AR1141, summer/autumn]

The results of Roeas's tests arrived in a letter, with annotations by Qubine which translated the findings from doctor-speak to human-speak, plus a note saying that he would prefer to communicate in writing or on the telephone from now on.

Keeping face to face meetings to a minimum, then. When they met last time, it was probably because he knew Roeas would want the tests and therefore he had to collect the samples from her, but after that was done there was no need to see each other again. And that would've been fine by her, since the waves of agony he emanated was something she would very much like to not experience again, but she did have things she wanted to talk to him about in private.

"What does it say?"

Roeas let her husband take the letter. "At this stage, the foetus is exactly like any other."

It was entirely possible for someone to be both relieved and disappointed at the same time, it turned out. Zephyr mulled over the idea for a while, and then his mind screeched to a halt.

"If this turns out to be a normal baby, wouldn't that mean what's been done to me isn't permanent?"

"Why?"

"If I don't pass it on, then it's not in my DNA? Theory of evolution and all that?"

Roeas doubted it being that simple, but she wasn't going to burst his bubble. Leave that task to Qubine. "I'm not the scientist, but I don't think that's how evolution works."

Zephyr sat down on the bed. "Doesn't matter anyway."

Well, she'd got to tell him and this was as good a time as any other. "It really doesn't, since we're getting rid of it."

Pause. This wasn't the time to care about these things but as Zephyr's eyes widened in surprise, all Roeas could think about was damn, they were so pretty. Would their child have eyes like that?

"What're you talking about?"

 

Rowen considered himself as the sort of leader who knew his team well, at least professionally. He knew which of the cardinals could work, or even performed better, if he just let them get on with themselves, mostly the older generation like Theresa and Antourion. A few others, people such as Garigliano, Barbarella and Jean Paulet, liked to touch base with him once in a while, not necessarily because they needed guidance, but it was just how they worked. Then there were Paris and Pater, who were both growing into their roles and knew when to take initiatives, but still ran most major decisions by Rowen first. Because Rowen understood how each of them worked, they got things done despite all the disagreements. He would dare say that the current team was the best Basel had had since Freida's passing.

The fact that Lagerfeld was no longer with them and therefore unable to throw a spanner in the works the way he always used to probably had something to do with this. But still, Rowen did miss him and would often ask himself what Largerfeld would have said, and then put it to the team in a reasonable manner.

On a personal level, though, Rowen wasn't nearly close to those he worked with and had always relied on Veronique. Of course, he and Garigliano were old friends, and he and Antourion bonded over their disagreements over practically everything, but Rowen felt like he hardly knew the rest of them at all.

This was true even with Jean Paulet, who had started to talk more and more with Rowen, not always about work. David's influence, no doubt. As Rowen began to grasp what sort of person Jean Paulet was in private, he realised he didn't really know him before. The Jean Paulet at work and the Jean Paulet outside of work were very different people.

After a short meeting that involved most of the cardinals, Jean Paulet stayed behind, following Rowen into his office. Rowen wondered which Jean Paulet he was going to see this time.

"Tea?"

"No need, I won't be long," said Jean Paulet, his manners caught somewhere between formal and casual. "This is just to inform you that I will be taking a week off from my duties starting tomorrow."

This would not be the first time Jean Paulet had done this this year, but the "inform" part was a first — there was no room for discussion. A bold statement.

With one hand, Rowen flicked open the buttons on the collar of his shirt, pulling it open slightly. "What are the arrangements?"

"My junior will be assisting Garigliano on matters regarding my diocese."

"That is one huge favour you're asking from him," or a huge favour was being called in. Rowen wouldn't know. "What is going on?"

Jean Paulet said nothing.

"This is not the first time, and you are talking about a week, starting right away. You can't expect me to just agree to it without knowing the reason," said Rowen, although he believed he knew the answer already: the same reason why Jean Paulet took time off last time. "Is it Qubine?"

"He needs my help," said Jean Paulet, not moving an inch. Standing before Rowen was not the cardinal, but the man. Jean Paulet was not being formal, but he was dead serious. "Please."

"How is he?"

No answer. Rowen let the question hang in the air for now, going to make tea for them both, then pulled out a chair. After staring at it for a long moment, Jean Paulet sat down. Rowen chose to stand, leaning against a filing cabinet. 

"He's... not well."

Though they had talked on the phone several times, it had been a long time since Rowen last saw Qubine. The man had been refusing meetings ever since the fight at the Basilica.

If there was a problem with his physical health, then there was no help that Jean Paulet could provide specifically. This had to be something to do with the mind. Because he was brought back to life after being shot in the head. Or because of the harsh attacks from Sullivan he had endured. Or because of what he saw. The aftereffects of that day was something Rowen also struggled to cope with, and although the sickness had not gone away, he had made a lot of progress learning how to manage it. But Qubine was suffering.

Without him, Basel probably would have already ceased to exist, and this was his reward?

Rowen sighed, long and soft, shaking his head at himself. "How bad is it?" Jean Paulet had decided to take drastic action even so long after that day. Just what was happening to Basel's real hero as the world idolised and celebrated Rowen? "Is there anything that I can do?"

Sipping the tea he didn't ask for, Jean Paulet was clearly considering his response very carefully.

"Would it help if I asked David to reconcile with him?"

Jean Paulet glanced up at him briefly, then his gaze returned to the drink in his hands.

"I don't know what will help him. I know he doesn't want anyone to find out, especially not David, but ultimately whether that's better or worse for him I can't tell. But I just can't leave him like this... I'm making him come and live with me for a while, I'll stay with him for the first week, and then my wife will take over. We'll figure out something."

Emmy was a very good doctor, Rowen knew that from first-hand experience. She had advised him to talk to David about his problems, so if doing so would also be good for Qubine, surely she would have already told him the same.

But even if — and that was a very big "if" — they were to talk, was David truly going to forgive Qubine for the crimes he had not committed? Time and again David said all he needed was an explanation, although the answer was so obvious and he was just refusing to face it. What he needed wasn't an explanation, but proof, which no one could give him. 

If they did reconcile, many, many things were going to change. Rowen understood this. But hadn't things already begun to change anyway?

"I will talk to David. Not about Qubine's condition, just suggest to him that it was time he let go of his anger, and maybe get back in touch with a friend he never wanted to lose."

"Yes..."

"I owe a lot... I owe everything to Qubine, including my life. Take all the time you need, Garigliano and I will cover for you. Caring for someone in this sort of situation is a difficult task. Remember you have my support."

"Thank you... thank you."

 

_Caring for someone in this sort of situation is a difficult task._

Yes, Rowen understood this very well. It may not be the same for anyone else, but he and David had sacrificed a lot along the path of healing.

Whatever the future held, Rowen would never regret seeing the truth with his own eyes that day. One would not be wrong to say the experience had traumatised him, but whilst he lost a lot, he also gained something invaluable.

Things may or may not change. Either way, he was content.

 

She wanted to throw up, and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the life growing inside her belly and everything to do with the man who was currently gaping at her as if there was something wrong with her face.

"No."

"Why?" Roeas demanded.

Qubine shook his head. "Isn't that what I should ask you?"

"I want to have as much time with Zephyr as I possibly can," she told him. "Haven't you ever thought about it too?"

Surely Qubine had considered having the procedures done to himself so that he could live for much longer?

"No. I don't consider the future."

She studied him, trying to see the truth behind these words, unconsciously pulling back slightly when she realised he wasn't lying. Qubine had planned his life like a story with a fixed ending; there was nothing beyond that. Now that everything had played out, he had passed the end point and there was nothing for him anymore.

 _"I don't even know why I'm still alive,"_ he'd said at their last meeting.

A shiver ran down Roeas's spine.

"Well I do. Help me. Please."

"No. My answer will not change. Now please leave."

That was categorical. But this man held the key to Roeas and Zephyr's future, she could not accept that as an answer.

"Maybe Zenith kept you alive so that you can work on me," she said, looking for buttons to push. David would have her life if he heard this, but he was never going to find out. "For once you can do something for someone who'd appreciate it. Would give your life some meaning, wouldn't it?"

Qubine gave the softest of snorts as if he was genuinely amused, but what Roeas could not see with her eyes, she could feel in the air. Her words were having an effect, she just couldn't tell if that was good or bad. But the worst that could happen was another refusal, she had nothing to lose.

"If you—"

"You are asking me for time. Do you think it's a decision you won't regret, even after fifty, a hundred years? Do you think your love for him will last that long? Do you think he will still want you?"

"Bastard." She snarled at him. "If you think love doesn't last, how about David then? One day he'll break up with Rowen, or outlive him. Don't you want to still be around when that happens?"

Bullseye. This was something Qubine had not considered before. For a few moments he seemed confused by the possibility offered. But when his focus returned, his gaze on her was almost sympathetic.

"Do you read?" he asked. "Fantasy novels in particular."

Roeas frowned. Where was Qubine going with this all of a sudden?

"I'm just reminded of the thousands of dreadful novels where a vampire and a human fall in love, and then the human, usually a woman, begs to be made into a vampire so that they can be together forever. The vampire will refuse at first because he understands the burden of eternity, but he will eventually cave if the woman doesn't die under some unfortunate circumstances before that." Qubine snorted again. "But it never ends well. The woman would either be trapped under the sun, or killed by the vampire's arch nemesis, or set on fire by the townsfolk. The vampire then grieves for eternity, wishing he had never snatched her away from her natural life."

"Tragic," Roeas deadpanned.

"Go and talk to your vampire husband. Listen to him rather than the fantasies in your head."

"And what if he thinks it's a good idea?"

"Then both of you will come here and try to change my mind again, I presume."

He wouldn't do it without Zephyr's approval, then. And perhaps not even then. Dammit.

"Is that why you haven't done it to yourself? You're scared David will disapprove?"

"You're mistaken; I don't live for anyone. The prospect of a long life in Basel just seems like torture, I don't fancy it. And why should he even bother to disapprove when he wants nothing to do with me?"

Qubine's mood was a complete mess, but his words were plain and clear.

There was one threat Roeas could use: that she would tell David about what was happening with Qubine if Qubine refused to help. But if she went that far, it would give him incentive to do to her something other than what she wanted. That was a button she could not push.

Right now, Roeas was all out of ammunition. Perhaps the best thing to do was to go away and let the idea of a possible future with David, if he could live long enough to see it, sink in. If it did, it would be easier to convince him to perform the procedure on her.

"You're a tragic man," she finally said, turning to leave, "worse than those trashy bargain-bin novels you read."

"Ouch, that hurts."

"Oh, by the way," Roeas's hand was on the door handle, "after we saw each other last time, David kept asking me how you are. It doesn't seem to me that he just wants to write you out of his life, even after all that."

It was a lie, but Qubine started it first by implying that he didn't care about David's opinion.

She left him with that thought and let herself out.

 

Jean Paulet found him in a darkened room, on the chair tucked into a gap between the windows and the floor lamp. The maid said there had been a visitor earlier and Qubine had not left the room since. From her description, the visitor sounded like one of David's friends from Ebel.

"Mon ami fantastique, you'll have to try much harder if you want to hide from me."

No response. Jean Paulet crossed the room, and his heart all but stopped when he spotted the glint of metal in Qubine's hand. He rushed over and carefully moved the multi-tool away from his friend's wrist, then plied it out of his fingers, folding the knife away.

There was no blood on the blade. Had he arrived just in time to prevent a tragedy?

"No sharp objects for you anymore," Jean Paulet said, shakily pocketing the tool, "Mon dieu, did you want to give me a heart attack?"

Why? They had been doing so well! Qubine wouldn't go to Charlotte's wedding but still, he was making steady progress! Why the knife?

Very slowly, like an old machine being brought back to life, Qubine sat up and leaned back into his chair.

"You really shouldn't care."

"I love my friends, I can't help that!" No. Qubine didn't mean that, he was deliberately trying to drive people away. Patience, Jean Paulet. Patience. "I care about you, salaud. Truly I do."

That got Qubine to dip his head and chuckle. "Swearing is a rarity for you."

"Happens when I'm passionate. Just ask my wife."

The sudden humour seemed to get Qubine to relax, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"One day I will cave and help her, because I understand why she wants it... I must take the option away; I don't want to become like them."

This sounded hardly like Qubine at all now. Not the things he said — Jean Paulet couldn't work out their meaning anyway — but the way he said them. "What in the world happened, mon ami?"

Qubine actually smiled. "Keep the knife. I wasn't going to use it; I can't do that to Pater."

Thank God. Thank God. The man had enough sense to think like this. Maybe things were going to be okay.

A laugh left Qubine's throat when Jean Paulet began to sob.

"Salaud! Imbécile! Crétin!!" Jean Paulet yanked Qubine out of his chair and into a hug. Damn him! "Je vous déteste!"

"There is no need for the drama." Qubine sounded annoyed by the gesture, which was a reassuringly normal reaction from him. "I'm just waiting for David to realise and make that decision, it's the one thing I could give him, but he's taking so long. Perhaps he does know and he's doing this on purpose."

"I'm afraid you've lost me again."

"It's too complicated for single cell organisms."

Jean Paulet clenched his fist and thumped hard on Qubine's back.

There was a slight struggle, Qubine commenting how the cardinal was resorting to violence, but Jean Paulet would not let go. Well, now that David had been mentioned, although he didn't understand the context, he might as well broach the topic now.

"Do you want to talk to him? Talk to David?"

The body against Jean Paulet's went rigid, as if it had just been plunged into ice. "No. I'm going away."

"What? Where to? For how long?"

"I'll decide later."

Was his friend wanting to get away from everything? If that was the alternative to taking his own life, then it was a good thing.

"Going away on your own? I doubt you can look after yourself unless your genius extends to domestic skills and survival techniques," said Jean Paulet with a dry laugh, his voice still trembling with adrenaline. "Come and live with me for a bit instead."

"What?"

"I have time off from work. It'll be fun!"

Despite the names Jean Paulet called him, Qubine was no fool. He knew this could not be a coincidence and a lot of arrangement had taken place beforehand.

"So you've come to drag me to your house."

"Oui! Kicking and screaming!"

A pause.

"My brain chemistry isn't your responsibility. Don't rip apart your life to try to fix mine."

"Ironic, hmm?"

Silence. The man who had spent his life trying to fix someone else's had nothing more he could say about Jean Paulet's choice.

"Fine. Now stop vibrating against me, you moron. It feels disgusting."

Finally, Jean Paulet let go, still trembling mildly. "Let's go then. Your maid should have your bag packed already."

What was Qubine really thinking, what did he mean by caving in and waiting for a decision, was he really not going to hurt himself? Jean Paulet had a feeling he would never know.

The multi-tool sat heavily in his pocket, a reminder that today he probably almost lost his best friend. But even if Qubine didn't care about himself, he did want to get better for the sake of those around him. This was something they could build on.

One day, everything would be okay. One day, Qubine and David would be able to let things go and the three of them would be able to sit together and drink tea, Qubine would read a book and pretend not to be paying attention to the conversation. David would share the story of how he killed the monster whose hide his trousers were made of. Jean Paulet would comment on the tightness of those trousers and suggest Qubine to try on a cravat, he'd always thought it'd go very well with that coat.

"Jean Paulet."

Mon dieu, he was crying again. He dried his eyes and grinned at his friend.

"I'm just getting excited. What kind of cake should we bake tonight?"


	56. Weddings

[AR1141, summer/autumn]

The courier tried very hard to pretend to not have heard anything. David accepted the package, signed the receipt, thanked the man and closed the door.

"What's going on— oh!" Poking her head through the doorway, Leanne was going to ask about the noise upstairs, but she spotted David holding a box with the name of a well-known fashion designer embossed on the top. She hurried over to him. "What did you get what did you get?"

He showed her: the groomsmen outfit for Paris's upcoming wedding. He didn't have to pay for it and it was his brother's wedding, so he was quite happy to wear whatever Charlotte — Paris would have let her take control of this sort of thing — decided on. And it looked rather nice actually. It seemed like his future sister-in-law had a side to her that he didn't know about, choosing an all-white suit that suggested a fairytale wedding.

"This is gorgeous!" said Leanne, fingers hovering over the fabric as if worried she would stain it. "Try it on!"

David was about oblige her and take it to his room when a loud thud from above made them look up. They exchanged a look, David shook his head in a I-have-no-idea way, then went to get changed.

He had never imagined Zephyr and Roeas would ever fight, but clearly he was wrong. It seemed like they had even started throwing things, so this wasn't just a little spat. They'd been at it for some time now and it didn't look like things would be resolved any time soon. Should he go upstairs and intervene? Could this be about the pregnancy?

Holding back a sigh, he changed into the suit to show Leanne, only to see Zephyr and Roeas drop down through the roof hatch one after the other, Roeas shouting for her husband to wait. David hurried to the door, blocking it before Zephyr could leave.

"You two, whatever it is, is there any chance you can sit down and talk it through?"

They both glared at him, their faces so dark as if they had just seen the end of the world. In fact, they would probably be less frustrated if that was the problem. Then Zephyr did a double-take, his gaze sweeping over David.

"You getting hitched?"

"As if." David smiled, wry. "It's for my brother's wedding. I'm just trying it on."

Zephyr digested that, then reached around David for the front door.

"Zephyr—"

"I'm going to take a walk."

That in itself shouldn't be a bad idea if that was what was needed to cool his head, but David didn't want to budge, mostly because of how Roeas looked right now, like a fighter hiding an internal injury.

"You stay," she said, brushing the men aside, "I'll go."

She ignored Leanne's offer to walk with her, but made a sound of acknowledgement when David suggested that she came home for dinner, then the door slammed shut, and Zephyr made his way upstairs again.

The remaining housemates looked at each other. It was obvious that Leanne wanted to go and check on Zephyr, but that felt inappropriate even though their history was more like non-history. In the end, she pouted and let David venture upstairs instead.

He rapped on Zephyr's door briefly, not bothering to wait for an invite before opening it, the metal swinging open with the mildest of squeaks.

"Should I ask?"

No response. Sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, Zephyr stayed very still.

David stepped inside and shut the door. "Is this about the baby?"

Nothing. No information forthcoming, then, David sighed.

"Let me tell you something then. Do you know why I stopped you from leaving but let her go?" he asked, and waited for a reply. After a long while, Zephyr shook his head. "Last time we took a long walk together, she said she thought we'd left for good."

"She says that all the time."

"I don't think she was joking, you know."

"What, us, running away together? Now you're joking."

"Oh, she hardly gives a damn about me. But whenever you leave home in a mood, she probably thinks you wouldn't come back." Reading people like a psychic was Roeas's speciality, but reading people's faces was easy enough for David.

The speculation drew a sigh from Zephyr. "What the hell."

"It might be an unreasonable thing to assume but people don't have much to go on when it comes to our behaviour," said David, remembering how he woke up in Rowen's bed one time, jolted awake in the middle of the night when Rowen suddenly sat up. Drenched in sweat and breathing hard, he had David's switch clutched in his hands. A nightmare. It didn't matter that he trusted David; his subconscious did not feel safe. "The fact is that we have options other people don't, and our minds don't work the same way — that's what she knows. But what do those things really mean?"

Zephyr turned away, shifting his gaze towards the window at the far end of the room. "You're good with people, I'm not. We've established that a long time ago."

"Which is why I'm telling you what I know: she's afraid of losing you. Whatever your argument was, don't think—"

"I'd rather she doesn't feel that way."

"What?"

"You're not making this any better."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Can't we just live for today and forget about the future?" Zephyr stood up. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

This might be what David thought it was about, after all. "You are very much against having the baby, then."

The mention of the pregnancy made Zephyr frown. "We're getting rid of it. She decided, not me."

That was a surprise, even though David didn't know what he was expecting to hear. But there was one thing he knew.

"Go find her, Zephyr."

"I'd rather we both cool off a bit first."

"Your wife is very upset. She's carrying your baby which she's going to abort. What's stopping her from walking into any clinic right now to get it done on her own?"

Their eyes met for a second, and it was as if the gears in Zephyr's head, like those that support life in Basel, clicked into motion. Then he was out of the door in a heartbeat.

David watched him go. Those two were arguing over their future, then. At least they had one.

He wondered if he would ever be able to enjoy such luxury.

 

Jean Paulet sipped his coffee and waited. It was rare for David to be late.

The cafe truly was going from strength to strength. There were often suggestions to open another branch somewhere up on Chandelier, but Charlotte herself hadn't mentioned anything about expansion. Besides, with the wedding around the corner, even a capable, highly-productive woman like her would put back any business development plan, if there was one.

In any case, Jean Paulet doubted that his sister would expand upwards. It would be far too easy and she was someone who liked a challenge. And the original intention was to bring Chandelians down to spend their money on other Levels, hence Café Charlotte's location on Level 4.

If there was any kind of expansion, though, David was going to get very busy. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. The last Jean Paulet heard, David was people-managing and giving training half the time, and hands-on the other half, an arrangement that was pretty much like how he was handling his other job as Jean Paulet's security consultant, and he seemed to be absolutely flourishing in the role.

"Sorry. Housemate crisis."

Jean Paulet watched his friend slide gracefully into the seat opposite. He wondered if "housemate crisis" had anything to do with the fact that one of them had gone to see Qubine.

"That's all right, mon ami. For you, I'd wait for however long it takes."

Well, perhaps that was not really true. He didn't want to leave Qubine at home for too long. His maid had also come so she could keep an eye on him, but still.

"Oh, you charmer." Someone brought over a drink for David before he even asked. "Let's get down to business?"

Not that David had been in the job for long enough for there to be an established routine yet, but their previous meetings had all taken place at the manor, not the cafe. It seemed like a normal choice of location enough that David hadn't made any comment. But next time, Jean Paulet thought, he would arrange to do this at his office, make the whole thing more formal. Not only would this prevent an unwanted meeting between Qubine and David, but it would be a good thing for David to get to know the other staff, and vice versa. He was a very likeable person, and it would be good to have as many people on his side as possible before his relationship with Rowen became public.

Besides, no matter how David said he didn't want cardinalship, it was clear that he was meant for bigger things. Even Rowen had said so before. David was good at leading and good at listening. If he was happy with what he had, then so be it, but Jean Paulet would like to have at least shown him the possibilities first.

When work talk was over, Jean Paulet waved someone over and ordered a mini fruit tart.

"So, is everything going okay?"

David hummed over the brim of his glass of malted chocolate milkshake. "The usual. I got the outfit for Paris's wedding today."

Oh, now that was a fabulous piece of art which Jean Paulet thoroughly approved of. "The design is lovely, isn't it? And that fabric!"

"It's nice," said David. "I'm surprised it only just got here. The wedding's next week and Charlotte is usually prepared well ahead of time."

"Everything's going according to plan, last I heard. But you know that my dear sister doesn't really talk about what she's doing, she just goes and does it."

"Hmm."

"You have a thoughtful face."

The milkshake was put back on the table. David licked his lips to clean them. "The wedding will be the first time I see Qubine in months."

Unsure of what to say, Jean Paulet didn't make a sound, but he was pretty sure his face said "ah."

"Don't worry, I'm not stupid enough to do anything that'd upset anyone at Paris's wedding."

Jean Paulet arched an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Does this imply you would do upsetting things if it wasn't at the wedding?"

The question made David pause, and then look away. "You wouldn't have to worry about that if you'd just tell me what you know."

"But I already...." _Both Qubine and I love you very, very much,_ Jean Paulet had said before. He didn't want to accuse David of not listening, because that wasn't the case. The truth was already right in David's face, he simply wasn't acknowledging it. For what reason, Jean Paulet could make a guess and that, along with the fact that Qubine wanted things to be left alone, was why he would say no more.

What Rush said that time on David's birthday about making David understand sounded great, but idealistic. If there was anything that Jean Paulet had learned in the past year, it was that idealism had no place in this world. Or was it just that he could no longer summon the energy and optimism required?

"JP?"

"Oui?"

"It's fine. This isn't your fault or your responsibility. I'm going to let it go."

"Really?" _Not your responsibility._ That was what Qubine said too, not long after Jean Paulet took that knife away from him.

"With you pulling that face at me, I've got to, don't I? Otherwise Emmy'd kill me... if your fans don't get to me first."

Let it go. Yes, perhaps that was what everyone needed — not understanding, not reconciliation, but the will to just walk away.

 

In theory David was one of the groomsmen, but most of the tasks were left for others to do. His only jobs were to make sure Paris looked perfect, and to calm him down before the ceremony, both of which he believed he'd performed very well in. And he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"He looks great. Good job," said Emmy, wandering over to David after he fixed his brother's tie and sent him back to the dance floor. The day had gone smoothly, even on a personal level — Qubine didn't show, apparently due to illness. His gift did arrive though, the tandem bicycle drawing laughter from everyone, just like that time at David's housewarming when he didn't show up but sent a lamp in the shape of a nude man.

But no more thoughts about Qubine for now. "Paris has always looked good. Charlotte's a lucky girl," David said, his gaze sweeping over all the guests. Rowen was talking with Jean Paulet, but their eyes met and he smiled. Noticing that he no longer had Rowen's attention, Jean Paulet pulled an offended face and then all but dragged Rowen onto the dance floor.

David laughed at the surprised look on Rowen's face, but made no move to go over and help. Jean Paulet had always been known as quite eccentric, he could get away with dancing with Cardinal Rowen.

"My husband's sister's husband's brother?" said Emmy.

"Yes, my brother's wife's brother's wife?"

"Let's dance?"

When, a few minutes later, both Jean Paulet and Emmy decided to swap partners, David realised he should have seen it coming. He laughed as an initially confused and then quite amused Rowen was passed to him, Jean Paulet literally taking Rowen's hand to put it in David's like a father handing over his daughter to the bridegroom.

"I never knew he is so cheeky," said Rowen as he swayed with the music. He wasn't a great dancer, but not a terrible one either.

"Both him and his wife!" They both looked to the couple, and Jean Paulet winked at them. David snorted, but mouthed a "thank you" at them. He had never danced with Rowen before. There were many things they had not done as a couple. They had not even had a photograph taken together. No evidence of a relationship having existed.

All of this meant that this moment, right now, was all the more precious.

They danced, moving easily to the music.

"You seem disappointed."

"Disappointed? Why would I be? My brother just got married."

"Perhaps 'thoughtful' is a better choice of word."

David tipped his head to one side. What did Rowen mean? "I suppose a couple of years ago I would never have imagined this day would come, that I can come to Paris's wedding and celebrate..."

Two years ago, David had packed his bags and left Chandelier. It was Qubine who helped him gain people's trust and get the lift pass.

If it hadn't been for Qubine, David wouldn't be here right now.

"Are you all right?"

David smiled and nodded. "By the way," he pointed in another direction, where his other best friend was scanning the room, concentrating on his job rather than enjoying the wedding. He'd been made to dress up today and he seemed quite uncomfortable in a suit, but he did look delectable, "that's Rush. You've heard about him."

What was Rowen thinking? "That's the man who saved David's life" or "he's one who also has David's kill switch"?

"Another good looking boy. You sure know how to choose your friends."

"I have standards!" David snickered. Sometimes Rowen was full of surprises. "He's scrubbed up well, that's for sure."

"You do have high standards." Rowen inclined his head the way David often did. "This feels like an ego boost."

Well, if they were going to talk like this. "Oh, you should never doubt what a hunk you are to me."

"Then I suppose it wouldn't be too forward of me to suggest that you come to mine after this?"

"How bold."

 

The scarf stayed in the wardrobe; Rowen didn't need it.

Straddling Rowen's hips, his head thrown back, golden hair plastered to his face with sweat, David's moans were low and soft, but his thighs were moving faster, muscles stretching and contracting as the pressure built up. From this angle, David looked nothing short of magnificent. Not that Rowen could see very clearly anymore, being squeezed like this, the speed enough to drive him wild but not quite enough to make him come. It was torture of the most pleasurable kind and David knew it, flashing that mischievous smile as he watched Rowen's face.

That look did it. Rowen pulled David towards him and then rolled them over, pinning David under him. David's laugh was cut short when Rowen thrust hard and fast, one hand stroking his cock and the other pressed firmly on the mattress just beside David's head, to get leverage so that he could push himself as deeply inside David as possible.

Hell, maybe David wasn't the only one with a feral side. He'd certainly brought it out of Rowen too.

Fingers dug into Rowen's back. David was pleading, now it was his turn to need to climax. _Please. Please. Rowen... the tip, with your thumb... I'm so close, please!_

It didn't always happen, but tonight they came almost at the same time, Rowen buried deep inside and his head in the crook of David's neck, listening to those glorious, glorious sounds David made. The body beneath his tensed and shuddered and jolted, pleasure wrecking through both of them.

Good thing David was strong, because Rowen could not summon the energy to move off him afterwards. And he did love the feel of David's heart beating against his chest. David didn't fear that he was held down, and Rowen... refused to be afraid.

"That was mean."

"What was?"

"Making me beg."

"Because you weren't trying to make me beg?" Rowen smirked. "And I'm not the one who is getting finger-shaped bruises in the back?"

David laughed, stroking Rowen's back none-so-gently in apology.

Rowen loved his voice, his touch. He loved the way David's skin felt, like silk over steel.

"So, dancing puts you in the mood?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You nearly started undressing before we got in the door." The hand on his back travelled upwards, playing with the short hairs on his nape. "You were pretty horny."

In front of David, Rowen wasn't a cardinal, wasn't respected or revered for that title. In front of David, Rowen was just a regular man, with desires and fears just like anyone. Maybe he was even a pathetically weak man, powerless in many ways, but he was accepted and never judged.

"That's not a problem, is it?"

He loved the ease with which they could talk about anything at all, especially since the shooting and his admission to the stress it had caused him. He loved this closeness that had developed between them.

He loved how David teased him, and he honestly was not even the slightest bit bothered when he was made fun of.

"I think you should feel that way more often."

"That's not difficult with you around."

They both chuckled, then settled into comfortable silence, listening to each other's breathing, feeling their heartbeats slowing down to strong, powerful thumps. David's hands continued to stroke Rowen's back.

And then Rowen's heart sped up once more.

"Getting excited again already?" David asked, somewhat amused.

"David?"

"Hmm?"

He loved how David could rise above even the worst atrocity, he admired that strength. He loved how David devoted himself to everything he did, how David had chosen to live. He loved how David loved.

He loved David.

"Let's get married."

The hands on his back slowed, then stopped.

"Let's."


	57. Afraid

[AR1141, summer/autumn]

His shopping bags were left near the front door, amongst the pile of shoes. Outside, the thunder rolled, a deep rumble as if the sky was a very hungry beast, ready to devour the world.

The sheets of rain had started when Rush was on his way home, luckily David's place was nearby and Vashyron was home to let him in. The weather was turning pretty bad now, more like a deluge than anything. Looking out the window, Vashyron frowned.

"It's getting worse."

"Yeah," Rush agreed, pulling off his mildly damp jacket to hang on one of the hooks on the wall. "Thanks man."

"No problem, I gotta head out soonish, but you're welcome to stay until it dries up."

"I'm supposed to be dinnering with Dave later."

"Well, I don't know where he is," said Vashyron with a shrug. "Make yourself at home, you know where everything is. I need to go prepare for my job. Looks like I need to dig out the waterproofs."

Left on his own, Rush helped himself to some snacks from the kitchen, then went to take a look at the weapon collection under the stairs. These guys really knew how to spend money. One of the barrels they had was something Rush really wouldn't mind having in his own collection, but he'd settle for just staring at it enviously. At work Paris made sure all the necessary equipment was provided but this particular barrel did not fall under the "necessary" category, and Rush wasn't going to spend the money himself to satisfy his own vanity. Outside of work, Rush hardly touched a weapon these days, only hitting the arena occasionally to make sure he wouldn't go rusty; Rhagoh wasn't a fan of guns and bullets.

He wondered how Rhagoh coped when he was going out with David. Just put up with it, probably. David was an accommodating guy, but Rhagoh wasn't enough to make him change his lifestyle. Rowen, on the other hand...

A smile tugged at Rush's lips. He'd heard about Rowen a lot but yesterday at the wedding was the first time he'd seen them together. They'd got the act down pat, and looked like a pair of very close friends rather than lovers. If Rush didn't know that they were involved, he'd never have guessed. But the main point was that they looked so content despite Rowen's post traumatic stress and some other problems David never fully explained.

Maybe Jean Paulet's decision was the right one. He shouldn't say a word about Qubine, after all. This was what Qubine wanted as well.

He put the barrel back and turned around when he heard the front door. Roeas walked in, followed by Zephyr, both of them pushing back the hoods of their jackets as they came in from the rain.

"Hey."

"Hey," Zephyr replied, not too surprised to see Rush in his home. "Day off?"

"Yup, got a few days off. My boss got married."

"Oh yeah." Rain sodden jackets and boots were removed, followed by holsters. They checked that nothing had got wet, then Zephyr put some of the things back under the stairs. Rush moved out of his way. "Man, what a day."

"Heh, I got in just before that started. Been busy?"

The simple question made Zephyr and Roeas exchange a glance. Then Roeas shrugged.

That seemed to be permission for Zephyr to answer Rush's query. "We were looking for Qubine. Couldn't get hold of him on the phone, thought we'd try his house since we were up at Level 3 for a job anyway."

"Right." That sounded dubious for some reason, but Rush knew he'd better not ask. The fact that he seemed relatively harmless was why people thought it was okay to tell him things, after all.

"Don't suppose you've seen him about?"

"Nah. He didn't even go to the wedding yesterday. Sick, apparently."

Roeas's face darkened. "He's hiding," she muttered. "This just gets better."

"He did look pretty sick, that's why we wanted to check on him." Zephyr seemed a little exasperated by his wife's reaction. "Doesn't mean he's hiding"

Now that was curious. Rush had to ask. "So you went to his house and he wasn't there?"

"Pater said he's gone on holiday."

Interesting. Even Rush knew that Qubine never did mundane and useless things like going on holidays.

It looked like Roeas didn't want to continue with this conversation. Muttering about needing to change out of wet clothes, she headed upstairs. Zephyr shrugged and followed.

"He's hiding," her voice rang from the stairwell.

"Feeling guilty?"

"You know I am; he helped me at the Basilica when that flying bitch tried to kill me. I pushed him too far, god knows if he's okay."

"I'm sure Pater's got him well looked after... he'll get our message..."

"Hope so..."

The metal door at the top of the stairs opened, then closed, shutting Rush away from the rest of what was being said, but he'd heard plenty already. Yup, people really didn't mind him hearing these things and they were right, he wasn't much of a gossip at all. He might not be the brightest spark but he did know when to keep his trap shut.

Like now. He could hear keys jangling, so if it wasn't Leanne coming home, it must be David.

"Yo."

David stepped in, looking relatively dry. Unlike everyone else, he had an umbrella. He also had a large canvas bag which didn't look like something that belonged to him. "Rush? Are you early or did I get the time mixed up?"

"Early."

Rush went to make tea for them both as David put his things down. It really felt as though this place was also his home now.

"I got some photos from yesterday for you, look in my bag, it's near the shoes," he said over the sound of the boiling kettle.

When he returned with two steaming mugs, David was on the sofa looking through the pictures from his brother's wedding with the most serene smile. He paused at a photo of himself and Rowen on the dance floor. There were several of them in a sequence, one of which was the very moment when they discovered they were being photographed, and the last one of them smiling for the camera.

"Finally, some pictures of us."

"I suppose you don't get the chance to take pictures together much."

"Never." David's gaze stayed on the photo. After a pause, he said, "we broke up last night."

" _What?_ "

 

_"David?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Let's get married."_

_At that moment, David knew he was the luckiest person in the world. He was going to share the rest of his life with Rowen. Nothing else mattered anymore._

_"Let's."_

_Nothing else mattered anymore. Squash that hint of doubt and live happily ever after._

_And then he felt Rowen pushing himself up, slow and steady, so that he could look into David's eyes._

_"Really?"_

_Ah._

_"I..." David began, but was lost for words all of a sudden. Even if he had the words, could he say them out loud? "I love you. You know that."_

_Both stoic and emotional at the same time, Rowen was a paradox at this moment, much like his life as a cardinal._

_"And I cannot imagine my life without you," he said. "But are we still..."_

_Silence. They knew what the words were, but were afraid to say them. Which meant it was the truth._

_They weren't in love anymore._

_Since David shot Rowen, and Rowen's subsequent sickness, things had changed. The confession, the worry, the nightmares, the long talks. Their love had deepened, but it was no longer the same thing. They had fallen out of love and became friends instead._

_"It doesn't mean we can't get married. It'd still be the best thing to ever happen to me in my life."_

_David would very happily be with Rowen for the rest of his life. It was to marry a best friend, but that would simply be a different kind of perfection._

_"But I'm not the one, I know it, and I know you know it. You can find the one. No, you_ will _find him." With a hand, Rowen brushed David's hair away from his eyes. "Don't settle for anything less."_

_"This isn't 'settling'."_

_"You know what I'm trying to say."_

_No, David didn't understand. But he knew for sure he would be crazy to give up this happiness for a small chance of something else. No, not even a small chance. There could be no one better than Rowen, and no one he could love more._

_"Do you feel like you're settling for less with me, then?" David breathed, letting his words tear a wound between them, seeing how they hurt Rowen. This was wrong. Of course Rowen could do with better, someone who wasn't dangerous, who couldn't hurt him or threaten his career. Nobody could blame him for that, least of all David. "I... sorry, I don't..."_

_Hands buried in his hair. Rowen gripped hard, but not enough to hurt. "David. We're not in love. But I love you, more than I ever have. And that is not going to change even when you find the person you're meant to be with, even when I meet someone else." The grip loosened, and he chuckled. "Maybe that someone else would be great. Maybe they wouldn't give me bad dreams or make me worry about them, maybe they'd complement my career. But they wouldn't be you and could never take your place. And whoever they are, they would have to accept that I love you even if we're not together. If they cannot handle that, then they are not the one for me." He laughed again, this time embarrassed. "That sounds insane and confused. I don't know how to express to you how I feel."_

_Staring up at the man who just said they were not in love anymore, that David wasn't the one for him, David felt no anger. Reluctant as he was to accept it, every word Rowen said made sense. The idea was frightening, that they would no longer be together, but fear aside, it was..._

_It was a relief._

_It wasn't wrong of him to doubt, to feel that little niggle of something in the back of his mind, telling him something had changed. They were soulmates, trying to continue as lovers._

_"It's..." David began, slowly, as he searched for the right words, "scary out there."_

_"Especially for an old man like—" The sentence broke off as David kicked Rowen in the thigh. "Kick if you like, it's still true. But we'll be all right."_

_"How confident."_

_"No, I'm just a braver man than I used to be, thanks to you."_

_"Confident, and still very cheesy."_

_"You knew that from the night I asked you out."_

_The softest of laughs. David gestured for Rowen, who lowered himself again, so that he could put his arms around him._

_"Thanks," David whispered. Rowen was a braver man than he was, to make them both face the truth. "What if my reaction was different and I really wanted to get married?"_

_"Then we would get married, and I would have no regrets."_

_"That would be settling, hypocrite."_

_Rowen snorted. "It's not a concern now, But I do have one regret." Hands slid down David's sides, stroking. "I must be crazy to give this up."_

_Yes, David was going to miss this too._

_"One more for the road?"_

 

"I stayed until the morning, then collected the things I have at his and came home."

That'd explain the big bag. Shit. Rush couldn't believe this. David and Rowen had split.

"Are you alright?" It all sounded so amicable, but if David had left Rowen's in the morning but only just got home, he must've spent a long time wandering about.

David took his time to find a response to the simple question. "I will be. It's fine, I'll get over it."

Just like he did with everything. Well, with the exception of Qubine.

"Like you said, you haven't lost Rowen, right? You've gained a soulmate."

Damn, that sounded so perfunctory. But David still smiled, gracious as always.

"I know."

That was all he said. Rush shuffled himself closer and gave him the "come on, talk to me" look. Taking a moment to sip his tea, David stared into it.

"I'm... mournful for the death of something very good that I had. And I'm frustrated. Things changed because I shot him. Sullivan's managed to ruin this for me from beyond the grave. All this... condition has ever done is take things away from me. Still, I'm relieved; I'm not holding Rowen back anymore."

The poor man. Rush's heart went out to him. "Dave, don't think like that."

A pause, and then a shake of the head. "I just can't think straight at the moment. I'm angry and it's not rational. Let's not talk about it, it just seems to make it worse." The tea was set down, and the photos picked up again. "Are these for me?"

"If you want them..."

"Of course I do. Rowen's still important to me and I'm not mad at him." David looked through the pictures again, managing a smile that Rush suspected was only for show. "Can you get me another copy? I think he'll want them as well."

"Sure."

 

The bullet did not kill Rowen, but it killed what they had.

When Rowen was holding him and looking into his eyes, David felt as though he did believe that one day, he would be able to turn around and say this was the right thing for them both. He did believe that at this point, they loved each other more than they ever did before, but in a different, unique way.

But now that he was on his own, thoughts and emotions spiralling, he couldn't feel that faith anymore.

He reached under the bed, felt around and retrieved a heavy object, switching it on at the base. It began to glow gently, a moving light under the milk-coloured shell of the structure. He hadn't touched the lamp since several months ago, but despite his relationship with Qubine having fallen apart, the lamp itself was still comforting.

 

_"I'm sorry this hadn't worked out," David said to Rowen when he was leaving in the morning. "I'm sorry about everything."_

_Rowen shook his head. "If I was given the choice again knowing what would happen, I would still have stayed there at the Basilica," he said, and when David frowned and was about to call him crazy, he added, "I'd rather this than ignorance. It changed things, but not for the worse."_

_But was it for the better? David wondered. "Glad to still have you as a friend."_

_At that point, he wasn't quite sure what to do next except leave, but Rowen stepped closer and gave him a firm hug._

_"I was going to wait a few days before saying this but I don't think it can be left for much longer," he' said quietly. "Can I give you a piece of advice, as a friend and as someone who's had a few more years on him?"_

_"Hmm? Go on."_

_"Go and talk to Qubine."_

_Shocked, David's first reaction was to pull away, but Rowen would not let go. "That is not what this is all about, is it?"_

_"No. But he's a friend you don't want to lose and it's hurting you. You can let anything slide but you haven't been able to let this one go. So talk to him and sort it out."_

_If that was Rowen's observation, then fine. It wasn't entirely true or fair, but at least Rowen always said what he meant, on the things none of David's other friends dared to touch. "It's not as if I haven't tried. He wouldn't answer any of my calls."_

_"Then go and see him and make him talk to you, please, for the love of god. I don't know how you still haven't got an aneurysm from this, because I can feel myself developing one just from watching you."_

_Even if David was willing to give this a go, if Qubine would not talk, he couldn't see how finding him would make any difference. But he had never heard Rowen speak like that before, a friend with a heartfelt piece of advice on what he felt was an urgent problem. Replying with a general response seemed to be a very wrong thing to do._

_"David, please. And do it soon, don't dally."_

_David sighed. "I'll try again."_

_Maybe. David saw no reason why he should put himself through the wringer for Qubine again._

 

David hadn't be able to let this one go because he didn't want to deny all the years of good memories without one single explanation or justification. How was it for Qubine, was it hard work to keep being David's friend? Did doing all of this yield any result? Had David been useful to him at all?

Why wouldn't Qubine talk to him?

Jean Paulet had said that it was better this way, so that David could move on. But why should anyone but David himself decide when he should move on? The truth was that he couldn't, and damn, was it hard to hear Rowen point it out.

With the lamp in his hand, he made himself get out of bed and to the phone. It was the middle of the night, so he tried the workshop.

_"The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected..."_

But of course. Qubine had always been thorough.

David would have to go and find him, then.


	58. The Villain

[AR1141, summer/autumn]

David was tempted to stay in Royotia forever.

If Torgal found out about this, he would point out that David would be "hiding", not "staying". He was an observant man who did not mince his words if he felt they needed to be said. Somehow, quite soon after their friendship began, he decided David was someone who should hear those words every time. Whether he had found out that David was surrounded by people who thought too much but said too little, or if he believed David was naive and needed his help, David wasn't quite sure. But that was the reason why he never talked to Torgal much about his personal life.

It wasn't as if he disliked Torgal, of course. And Torgal did give him a place to stay when David once had to stay in Royotia for a couple of days for work, and said he didn't mind if David came back again. It was a tempting offer even if he had to put up with being told he was hiding and running away. The indignity of this would be less than having the door shut in his face at Qubine's house.

Oh god, Rowen would be so disappointed. He must've known this would happen though, otherwise he wouldn't have told David to not dally.

After a long, sodden day at work, during which nothing happened because apparently even monsters hated the rain, he dragged himself back to an even soggier Ebel. The rain was a good thing, since his attention was elsewhere the whole day which was terrible when he was supposed to be looking out for monsters. But when the thunder and lightning started, he was forced to wrap things up and send the workers home, which meant he was also home earlier than expected.

He should go to Chandelier now. Come on, David. Don't dally.

Damn it, Rowen. On top of splitting up he just had to lump this on as well. "I don't think it can be left for much longer"? David didn't have the faintest idea what that could mean, but at his current emotional state, he didn't think he would be able to handle this as calmly as he should if Qubine wouldn't work with him.

And what was Jean Paulet going to think if he found out that David went to look for Qubine the day after he and Rowen separated? Would anyone believe that David was only doing this because Rowen told him to and he loved Rowen so much he agreed to put himself through this humiliation and pain again?

The core lift did not break down as he had hoped. He walked, still using the umbrella Rowen had lent him yesterday, pausing at the point where he would have taken a different path for another lift if he was heading towards Rowen's house.

He wished he had reacted differently that night, that Rowen didn't see through him. He would "settle" for surety and comfort and friendship and love.

But that would mean making Rowen accept the compromise too, David told himself. Could he live with that, on top of everything else he had already done to Rowen's life?

He didn't think so.

Rowen really loved him, there was no question about that. He loved him enough to throw away his career, let go of an old promise, forgive the lies and untold truths and the bullet through the heart, tolerate the sleepless nights. Perhaps such a thing did exist, unconditional love, and this way, David could love him back without feeling even more of that terrible, terrible guilt.

Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he should be very grateful.

He took the road towards Qubine's manor, resolute. He would try to salvage this friendship. Only because Rowen told him to.

 

At the door, instead of the usual affectionate smile, the old housekeeper looked worried and nervous. She asked him to wait, shut the door and he could hear her moving away briskly.

What had Qubine told his household staff for them to react like this? That David was an abomination from a laboratory?

David had left his guns at the gate — it made him feel naked but it seemed the right thing to do — so if things turned nasty he would have to run. But he must just be overthinking this far too much.

Eventually the front door opened again, revealing the face of Qubine's maid rather than the housekeeper.

"Sir, sorry to have kept you waiting, please come in."

"Thank you," said David. "Is Margaret all right? She..."

"She's just a bit stressed."

"I see." What a non-answer. "I'm looking for Qubine."

"Of course. The Cardinal must have sent you. Please, follow me."

The maid led the way through the front rooms, then down corridors. David had no idea who she meant by "the cardinal". Pater, perhaps?

"Doctor Emmy said last night that it's okay for him to read and do a small amount of work, so we came back to pick up some things. I did suggest to Master Qubine that we leave a note, because Cardinal Jean Paulet would get worried, but you know how my master doesn't like to listen to people..."

She was unusually talkative, but David could not understand a single word.

"But please don't worry, it's not like he's too unwilling to go back to the Cardinal's place. I mean, since he started living there he has put on two pounds, the doctor could assess him more closely and now he's been prescribed with a different medication that's working a lot better. The Cardinal would just dismiss this if I told him but if you could let him know we're all very grateful for his intervention, we truly are."

David felt his throat go dry. What was she talking about, what the hell had been going on? What medication?

"The new pills do work better, I heard," he muttered, trying to fish for more information as the maid stopped outside an office, knocked and then opened the door. No one inside. Apparently she wasn't sure where Qubine was. "I wish he had them sooner."

"It can't be helped, Doctor Emmy said that these things work differently with every person. But not only do these ones make Master Qubine feel better, he can also take sleeping pills with them, so finally he's getting some rest."

They headed down another corridor, towards Qubine's workshop. She did know where her master was, David realised, and she wasn't being chatty. She knew he had no clue what was going on and she was filling him in. Informing him.

Stopping outside the workshop, the maid buzzed a small panel on the wall.

"Master? You have a visitor."

A few long moments later, Qubine's voice came through, sighing. "Is it Roeas or Zephyr? Tell them I got their message and they have better things to worry about, then ask them to leave."

"Qubine, it's me."

The sound of the lock in the door turning was the coldest sound David had ever heard.

"We need to talk."

Nothing. No reply. David glanced at the maid, who was pretending to be oblivious to everything around her at the moment.

"You can't do this to me. Come on out or let me in, let's talk things through."

After a long silence, David got his answer: the static sounds of the intercom disappeared, along with the light on the panel.

That son of a—

"You can't do that!" Furious, David shouted at the locked door, not caring who might hear. "After everything you've done to me, I've still come all this way, you can't just shut me off!"

"Sir..."

"Is this it then?" David tried the door. It was definitely locked. "You can't face me because of your guilty conscience? No, that's giving you too much credit. I'm useless to you now, am I right? I'm not even worth a second of your time!"

"Sir, please don't shout!"

"Leave."

The quiet voice came from the intercom, its light lit once again.

"You owe me an explanation!"

"Leave. I don't want to see you."

That was cold, and final, and David was having none of it.

"That's not up to you, because I'm going to kick this door down! You know I can do that easily with these muscles your mother gave me!"

"Even if you do that there is nothing for us to talk about. I'm done with you."

The last time David felt this angry, he was at the Basilica and he had just laid eyes on Sullivan.

Qubine owed him. An apology, an explanation, or even just an admission that he had been dishonest. And he would look at David in the eye and say it.

It didn't matter that Qubine didn't want to talk, this wasn't a choice David was going to give him. He took a step back, ready to kick down the door as he said he would.

Then he found himself knocked, grabbed, twisted around and pushed to a wall. A mob of brown hair appeared in his vision first, then he saw Pater.

"HAVEN'T YOU DONE ENOUGH?" came the scream, fingers gripping at the lapels on David's shirt.

Shocked, David did not move.

With a yank, Pater shortened the distance between them, until David could feel his shaking. There was barking coming from the top end of the corridor, Lassie Doo noticing the commotion and here to help his owners.

"Get out. I don't want you in this house or anywhere near my brother. Get. Out!"

 

Pater curled his fingers and rapped on the door in a pattern his brother would recognise from childhood, a signal that said the adults were gone and they could play again.

The intercom came back to life, announced by a green light and electrical static.

"He's gone. I've chased him away."

"Thank you," whimpered a voice Pater almost could not recognise as his brother's.

"Haven't you read my comic? I'm a hero! Heroes protect people."

"Even half brothers?"

"Especially half brothers."

 

The journey from Level 3 to Level 4, if one chose the steps rather than the core lift, took around three hours, David learned. Nobody noticed him at the top, and no one saw him came out through the gate at the bottom. There was no reason for anyone to keep an eye on those gates, because who in the right mind would choose to walk, especially in this weather?

Qubine's maid had given him back the umbrella just before he left the mansion, but didn't say a word, probably regretting her decision to interfere. David wondered about giving the umbrella back to Rowen, and asking the man exactly what he knew about Qubine, but there was no way Rowen was going to be home right now. And they had just separated, he really should keep some distance.

Jean Paulet would be able to give him an answer. But David had already tried his number from a telephone box and Jean Paulet wasn't at home.

During the seemingly never-ending descent, David had a few ideas on what might be happening, none of which could explain everything. If Qubine was hiding from him because he suffered what Rowen also suffered after the Basilica, that would explain Pater's — sweet, gentle Pater — reaction, but Qubine was a logical man, he wouldn't let something like this rule his life, he would have tried to push his way through it the way Rowen did. If Qubine simply didn't want to see him, then what kind of lies had he told Pater, and what about the medication and Jean Paulet's intervention?

He was only faking it, that must be it.

And so what if he was truly sick? Did being sick mean he didn't have to explain his actions or own up to them?

There was nobody around when he got home, drenched from top to toe. The weather had turned into the kind that an umbrella meant nothing anymore, and he wondered if this was a deliberate move by Zenith. Maybe it thought it'd be fun to batter David around a bit since he chose to be a masochist and walk down from Chandelier.

He peeled off his wet jacket, hung it over the back of a dining chair, leaned his hands on it and paused, annoyed with himself. This was just like that time with Rhagoh. What kind of a bitter, suspicious, hateful conspiracy theorist had he become?

He made no move when the phone started ringing behind him. He could hear keys too, and the footsteps of two of his housemates. There was a brief pause, then Zephyr answered the call.

"Hello? Ah, Rush," he said, obviously for David's benefit. "He's... in the shower. I don't know, hold on, I'll ask."

When Zephyr raised his voice slightly and said "does anyone know if David's busy tonight", David finally turned around and shook his head.

"Apparently he's going to be home," Zephyr told Rush, stealing a look at David's face. "If you want? The rain's pretty... don't need to, we've got food. Pasties okay with you? See you soon then."

Holding back a sigh, David muttered a thank-you to his friend, then went to get a shower. Rush already stayed too long last night knowing how down David was feeling because of Rowen, and David really didn't want Rush to waste his holiday on him like this, but Rush was Rush and turning him down would just make him feel worse and make extra effort to help.

After he was clean, warm and dry, he went to his bedroom and started gathering some things, putting them in a box. A few books here and there, a pair of gloves he had borrowed many years ago and then pretended to have forgotten about. There weren't many things of Qubine's that he had. He had to send these back, and let go like he had promised Jean Paulet; these emotions were poisoning him and hurting everyone around him as well.

He even included the mini-safe Qubine had made him to store the experimentation documents, and the contents inside. He didn't need those papers anymore, because he would never want to bring chaos to the world Rowen led.

He wondered if Qubine would recognise that single ruby from their "date" two years ago. What a foolish thing to do, to have kept something like this.

Zephyr was fiddling with the oven and Roeas was watching the proceedings, holding something golden and alcoholic in her hand. David pushed past them to get to the teapot to put in his box, knowing he now had Roeas's attention. He wasn't in the mood for people but he had questions for them.

"Rare of you to start drinking before dinner." he asked, preemptive, because she was bound to ask him about his day. "Long day?"

"Nope. I just have a resting bitch face," she said. "Rowen decided to educate me on whisky and gave me a bottle."

Well-played. They were on the subject of Rowen already. "Bribery to get you to keep an eye on me, I suppose."

"Don't worry, I'll tell him what you want him to hear."

The thought of Rowen brought joy and love and pride and melancholy, and David didn't want to talk about him with anyone until they found their own comfortable dynamics as friends.

"Qubine said he's got your message and you have better things to worry about."

Zephyr straightened himself and threw the pasty packaging away. They were having beef-flavoured ones, apparently. "You saw him?"

David decided not to answer that question when he still had his own. These two had seen him recently, they must know things he didn't. Just one last time, before he sends that box and all its associated memories away, he would try to find out more. "What's going on with him?"

Zephyr shrugged, looking to his wife for a lead. The brim of the tumbler touching her lips, Roeas looked thoughtful.

"Nothing."

Not that again. Nobody wanted to talk about Qubine. Or Qubine had somehow silenced them all.

"Why isn't anyone telling me anything? Is he blackmailing you somehow?"

She drew a deliberate breath through her lips, as if appalled by what she just heard. "Oh, David, don't speak ill of the dead."

The... what?

David's reaction was plain on his face. He had heard that Qubine was ill and that was why he didn't go to Paris's wedding, and the maid was talking about medications, so... was what Roeas said a figure of speech? Or was Qubine dying?

"You're getting all worked up, that's sweet for someone who swore to himself he was letting go just a few minutes ago," said Roeas, ignoring Zephyr's warning looks. "I mean there's nothing going on in Qubine's life at all. He might as well be dead."

And what was that supposed to mean? "Maybe I'm an idiot, but why can't anyone just straight up tell me in plain words what is happening?"

"How do I know? I see some things but I'm not a mindreader." With that, Roeas left the kitchen.

Zephyr leaned against one of the counters, looking pensive. "She makes fun of it and uses it to her advantage but she doesn't really like seeing stuff, you know."

David could guess that. It was just like them and their superior abilities. "I know. Sorry. How are you two now, are things okay?"

"Yeah... we're going to sit on this for a few years. If she still feels the same way then... I guess we'll try to convince Qubine again."

"Sounds like the sensible thing to do," David muttered. Zephyr did tell him what their previous argument was about and it was clear that Roeas was insanely in love with Zephyr to want something like that. And she was clearly just insane. "Is there anything you can tell me about Qubine?"

"Not much. He was skinny as hell when we saw him. Like he was last year, but half that size again. His condition on looking over the pregnancy was that we don't talk to you about him."

So Qubine really was ill?

_Haven't you done enough?_

Rowen wasn't the only one who suffered from that bullet, but Qubine didn't want him to know? Was that it?

No. No no. Jean Paulet would never agree to go along with it if this was the case.

He thanked Zephyr and returned to his room, to stare at the box of things he had packed.

What the hell was he doing, what did he really want to do? He couldn't keep changing his mind like this, it would make him go mad. 

The doorbell rang a bit later, and Rush appeared at his door. Either Zephyr gave him some warning or he saw the box on the floor, but he let himself in and shut the door behind him.

"Hey, I thought you really like that thing."

David's eyes followed Rush's gaze, falling onto the sculpture lamp that was on the top of the pile in his box. He really did like that. Of everything there, this one was the hardest to let go of. He picked it up.

"I still don't know why he gave me a birthday present, it was so out of character of him. He told me it's unbreakable, but it's made of dangerous materials. That was around when I started going out with Rhagoh. When he stopped talking to me I started getting suspicious, and thought maybe Rhagoh's change was his fault too. I thought there was something in this lamp, like a surveillance device. Or it gave out some kind of substance that made Rhagoh sick over time."

"So... is it?"

"I don't know. I have a feeling that the moment I try to break this and prove myself right, I'd step over a threshold and become one of those people who's jumpy and suspicious of everything. And I really don't want to be like that," David turned the object over in his hands. It was such a gorgeous thing, so tactile. "Maybe I already am like that, but I can pretend."

He looked up again when a shadow fell over him. Rush had sat down opposite him, on the other side of the box. "I'll give it a go."

Rush was always so thoughtful. "But Qubine said there's black oil in it."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," said Rush, taking the lamp from David.

Whilst his friend played detective, David's eyes fell on the box again. There weren't that many things, maybe even a shoebox would have sufficed if it weren't for the lamp, the teapot and the novelty light-up statuette that was a housewarming gift. Was this really everything already?

"Rush, I tried to see Qubine today."

He told him what had happened, the things the maid, Qubine and Pater said, word for word.

"I feel like I've been labelled the villain, and I don't even have an idea what's going on."

"Really? You really don't know?" Rush was now playing with the base of the lamp, flicking it on and off. "Or are you just avoiding things?"

Was that an actual question or was it supposed to be rhetoric? "Assume I've been in denial, then, since everyone but me seems to know. Tell me what your theories are."

"He's been in love with you all this time."

Well, that was a new one. "Rush..."

"And that's not theory, it's fact." Rush paused just long enough to glance at David. "Seriously. Just think about it. He killed his mum and spent his whole life working on how to kill Sullivan. He found you this place in Ebel when you had to move. He got you that lift pass. That's on top of everything else he's done for you whether you asked for it or not."

David couldn't think of anything to say. Of course if Rush put it that way...

"He's a scheming bastard, sure, but he's done it all for you. But he can't win, can he. There's no way he can prove his innocence to you now. And you were going out with Cardinal Rowen and you seemed so chuffed, if I was him I would've backed off as well."

No.

Impossible.

"I would have done all that for you too. Would that mean I was in love with you then?"

"Really? You'd go that far? Murder your own family and shut yourself away for years to work on my revenge?" asked Rush. "I'm not justifying the things he's done or saying that his behaviour is totally sane — in many ways he's probably the craziest person I know — but it ain't impossible to follow the logic. Just look at it. Everything he's done, including keeping quiet all this time, is supposed to make your life better, right? Why else did you think he tried to take the bullet for Rowen that time?"

That moment, when Qubine stepped in the line of fire with a smile on his face, never did make any sense. David had assumed that at that point Qubine had some control over Zenith and knew he wasn't going to die, but even that couldn't explain everything.

There was no need for Qubine to return David's quartz to him. There was no need for him to try to save Rowen. There was no need for him to personally kill Sullivan. There was no point in him killing his mother, having already told Rowen he had no interest in cardinalship.

"Come on, Dave. You knew all along."

He did. Perhaps he did. He just didn't want to face it, didn't want to think it was possible, didn't want to feel guilty about his happiness with Rowen, didn't dare to imagine the debt he owed if it was the truth.

"I'd asked him out before. He said no."

"I don't know what his reasons were, probably he didn't want you to know what he was working on? Anyway, you said you feel like you've been made the villain, but for months you've treated him like he was the villain and—"

"Sorry, could you be quiet?"

There was a scowl, and then Rush realised David needed to think, so he shut up and kept playing with the lamp instead.

 _"I wonder just what kind of proof there could be to show you he's always been on your side, like the rest of us,"_ Paris had said that night, just hours before David shot Qubine.

 _"I don't know if there'll ever be a way to prove to you that he never meant you any harm, but maybe even this is better for you... for moving on..."_ Jean Paulet had told him. _"...both Qubine and I love you very, very much."_

 _"You have already decided on what the truth is."_ Those were Qubine's own words. _"The truth is whatever helps you move past this. There is nothing more that I can give you."_

David groaned, feeling as if his head was swelling up and he was about to be sick. He had to force himself to take deep breaths, force himself not to cry. Qubine had never been good at expressing himself. He was intolerable and sarcastic. But he was the godless man who put Jean Paulet to shame when it came to giving and never asking for anything in return. He even gave his life trying to protect Rowen, to protect David's happiness. There was no need for proof; his actions, his friendship should have spoken for him. How could he even prove his innocence when there was no crime to begin with?

Where was Qubine now? What was happening to him?

"Ah, crap."

"Rush, I need to..."

"I think I broke it."

His attention returning to the room, David took the lamp from Rush. It had split into two parts, the base and the sculptural parts having entirely separated. Nothing seemed to be leaking from it, certainly no black oil, but it was still supposed to be unbreakable.

David stopped breathing when he noticed a keyhole in the sculpture, previously covered by the base.

He knew which key would open this lock: the same one that opened the mini-safe containing the experimentation documents, as well as the box which held his quartz.

He unlocked it, then took out the item contained inside.

"What's that?" asked Rush.

David just shook his head, stunned. He didn't know.

"I don't understand."


	59. Where It Belongs

[AR1141, summer/autumn]

_"I have a good feeling you won't suddenly drop dead."_

Qubine had said this that long summer day last year when David asked about Forsaken and the Sudden Death Syndrome because at the time, he was in possession of David's quartz, which now sat in a box under David's bed. Qubine had given it back the day Sullivan arrived at the Basilica.

So whose was this blue stone that just came out from the lamp?

Please don't say —

"Can I have a look?"

"Sorry, this..." David could not just pass it around, not even to Rush. He lifted it, letting light hit the multi-faceted stone, as if taking a better look would give him a hint.

Rush's jaw dropped. "Dave?"

David ignored him.

"Your eyes are glowing blue and it's really creepy. What's that stone?"

This was David's quartz. He had got it back long ago, hidden in a birthday present that was uncharacteristic of Qubine to give, soon after he really tried to live a new life and started dating Rhagoh.

Then the one Qubine had casually left behind in a box when David was running all over Chandelier looking for him, just before confronting Sullivan... that one belonged to...

_"He said he had a job to finish,...putting something where it belongs..."_

David slid the box out from under his bed and opened it.

Paris was wrong, and so was Rush. There was proof and it was right here all along.

_"There is nothing more that I can give you. What you want to do with what you have... it's your choice."_

 

They kept him outside the front door, but suggested he waited under one of the alcoves whilst they informed the cardinal of his visit.

It was the first time for David to be treated this way at Jean Paulet's manor, but he was not at all surprised. After a few minutes, Jean Paulet appeared, carrying an umbrella.

"Mon ami."

"Is Qubine here?"

His eyes lowered, Jean Paulet sighed, the sound so soft it was entirely drowned out by the rain bouncing off his umbrella. "Yes, but I'm not sure...."

He must have heard about what happened earlier. "Please. Please let me see him, I need to apologise. I know I've been wrong."

For a brief second a dark shadow crossed Jean Paulet's face, but the anger dissipated as fast as it appeared. He sighed again, then gestured for David to follow him. "Let's go and talk in the dry."

They entered the manor, the staff came to take their wet jackets away — David declined the offer — and gave them dry, warm house slippers, and there seemed to be a general sense of relief. It wasn't that they disliked him, they were only doing what they were told, to keep him outside earlier. Qubine's maid must be feeling quite differently though. She probably risked her job trying to help but he went and...

"Qubine is sleeping. We're not going to disturb him." Jean Paulet picked a small office for them to sit in. "So please don't cause a racket, compris?"

The warning was fair. Thinking about how he behaved several hours ago, even getting ready to kick down a door, David felt his face heat up in shame.

"He's on medication?"

"Several." Feeling the pressure of David's stare, Jean Paulet looked away. "Something for his chronic insomnia, one for his liver, one for his kidneys, a few general supplements, plus an antidepressant."

The blood left David's head as quickly as it rushed there moments ago. So many drugs. And an antidepressant? For Qubine? Did he do to Qubine the same thing he did to Rowen? "Elaborate? What happened in the last few months that I missed?"

Jean Paulet strolled to the window at the far end of the room. "He's overworked. His body can't keep up. Things have been going up and down a little but don't you worry, Emmy says he'll be fine as long as he's a good boy and listens to the doctor."

David knew just how hard his friend was self-censoring and still trying not to take sides despite everything. "It's okay, you can just tell things as they are, if something is my fault then I should know."

"But it's not your fault. The only people to blame are..."

"I know how his mother died. You can tell me everything you know, from your perspective. Please."

David picked a spot to sit down, not on a chair but on the carpet, leaning against a wooden desk. Under the furniture's shadow maybe it would be less obvious if he started to tear up again.

Jean Paulet sat down also, around the corner from him, close enough for their shoulders to touch but facing another direction.

"David... are you happy?"

This was a bad place to start. David didn't know how to respond. After a few moments, he decided to face the uneasy truth.

"No."

The answer made Jean Paulet turn towards him. "What? But why?"

"I thought you were going to tell me things, not the other way round." David sighed. "It feels like everything I touch just falls apart. There was a time when I thought I had what I wanted: I had someone I wanted to spend my life with, I enjoyed my jobs, I had amazing friends. And then I go and ruin it all and hurt everyone. It's a wonder I haven't messed up at work yet, but looking at the trend, it's only a matter of time."

"Has something happened between you and Rowen?"

"We aren't together anymore. I can't really explain but it's the right thing to do in the long run and we're still very good friends." Hopefully. "And it has nothing to do with the prelateship or anything like that."

Jean Paulet, unlike his usual self, swallowed his immediate reaction and took some time to digest this.

"I went to find Qubine today because Rowen said I should. I don't think he meant that I should go and scream at him." Pushing his fringe away, David pressed his palm against his forehead, wanting to somehow dam the headache that was threatening to emerge. It was still impossible to believe how he had acted just because Qubine locked the door. "Even if I didn't know his reasons, or that he was sick, I still shouldn't—"

"Ah, but mon ami, would you believe me if I said I think Qubine was happy today? There was a hint of a smile on his face when he came home."

"After my visit? How?"

"Because you still cared, I guess. He doesn't talk about these things often."

He was happy because David still cared. It didn't matter how he was thought of, or the words that were said.

David drew his knees closer to himself and pressed his head against them.

"Does 'not often' mean he does talk about it with you sometimes?" Qubine's feelings. In the beginning David assumed he probably didn't have any, and although over the years he'd learned that Qubine was simply inexpressive and socially awkward — sometimes by choice — Qubine had never bothered to correct the misconception. In fact, he often played it to his advantage.

"Maybe three or four times, in all the years we've known each other."

"And..."

"Those were occasions he either explicitly stated or implied that I must not tell anyone. This would be a very bad time for me to break his trust, mon ami, much as I want to tell you. I don't want him to think about leaving or indeed, leave as soon as my attention is elsewhere."

Dammit. "Leaving?"

"He said he wanted to go away. But he wouldn't say how long or where to." The sound of a shuddering breath. "At the time I thought he meant taking a break from things, but thinking about it again afterwards, I..."

The voice drifted off. Still resting on his knees, David turned his head to the side so that he could see a little of Jean Paulet's profile. His friend seemed to be shaking.

"Are you okay?" He reached out and grasped Jean Paulet's wrist. "JP?"

Jean Paulet pulled out something from his pocket and pressed it in David's hand.

"Last week, I found him holding this."

David examined the object: a common multi-tool, the kind sold at the general store alongside first aid and custom kits.

"The knife was unfolded and against his wrist."

David's mind went blank.

"He said he wasn't going to do it, that he'd never do that to Pater." His voice oddly flat, it was as though Jean Paulet was suppressing his emotions. "And then he said he was going away. I thought he wanted to take a break, but now I wonder if he meant... having a brother who... killed himself would be terrible for Pater's career, but if he just quietly disappeared... maybe that was what he meant."

It turned out sitting under the furniture did nothing to help, because in the silence that followed, David's sobs were loud and clear.

This was his fault. It must be the stress from the shooting, just like Rowen. Qubine decided to cope on his own from the start and never let David find out what was going on. Now it all made sense, the refusal to get in touch, the weight loss, the medication, Pater's accusation and his determination to drive David away from his brother.

David had never even apologised to Qubine for shooting him.

Rush might be wrong and there was no love. Qubine might have betrayed him or used him all these years. But the quartz was his apology. And even that, David realised, he didn't need. He didn't care even if he had been used.

There was a moment, just last week, when Qubine didn't want to live anymore. And David wasn't there for him.

"He said he was waiting for your decision, and that it was one thing he could give you," Jean Paulet muttered. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm an idiot!" The quartz. Qubine thought David would break it. "And he's insane!"

After letting him be judge and jury, Qubine would have him be the executioner as well?

"We knew that from the beginning," said Jean Paulet with a feeble chuckle, shuffling over so that he could rub David's shoulder reassuringly. "The insane part. You're not an idiot."

"You should have told me about this right away!"

"I took time off work and made him come live with me. I've been trying to look after him. There hasn't been the time to talk to you, sorry." The hand gave a firm squeeze. "Now listen. You're unlikely to believe me, but this is not your fault. It's just biology."

"You're talking like him. This is amazing." David took a deep breath. "And even you don't believe what you're saying anyway."

It took a moment for Jean Paulet to respond. "It's what he told me and I believe him."

"What else has he told you?"

"Like I said, I don't want to give him reasons to leave right now."

"But it's okay to tell me he tried to goddamn kill himself? What logic is that?"

A pause. "Oui, it is hypocritical." An arm reached up, fumbling around for the box of tissues that was on the desk. Jean Paulet pushed it at David. "Here."

"Thanks."

"It breaks my heart to see you weep."

"Second time you've seen it, I think."

"I've seen Qubine cry, too. Just the once."

David shut himself up and stole a glance at his friend. Was he going to tell him, after all?

"He said... he doesn't regret about his mother and her team because that was the only way to give you justice without parading you through a courtroom. He didn't think you really loved him because you couldn't trust him the way you trust Rush. I suggested it was probably because his family was involved and you didn't want to hurt him, and he said he wasn't going to gamble on that. He reckoned we should just let you move on from things you don't want to think about anymore.

"Quite soon after Chandelier came under attack, I went to visit him. And he told me... he'd failed. He couldn't find a way to reverse what'd been done to you, he couldn't kill Sullivan, and you almost died. That after all these years, he never managed to do anything for you.

"At the Basilica he saw with his own eyes how painful it is for you. He said he couldn't sleep because every time he closed his eyes, he saw you trying to kill yourself. That was when he cried.

"There was this once when we were talking about you and Rowen, and he said as long as you were happy that was enough for him. But he couldn't make you happy. He is how he is now not because of anything you've done, David. It's because he had set himself a task and for years it was his only focus, but in the end it didn't work. Maybe in his view he'd even made things worse because you were so upset that he'd lied to you. He let you believe he was evil because he blames himself for the failure and it's easier for you if you never found out and just enjoyed your new life with Rowen.

"Something else entirely must have happened which made him think about death, but I think... he doesn't _not want_ to live. He just has nothing to _live for_ , and that's very difficult for someone who doesn't know life any other way. Pater and Emmy and I remind him everyday that he has a place in our lives. It's trying to teach someone to savour the little joys of everyday life after the one thing they lived for has been taken away."

Eyes staring into the space in front of him as he spoke, Jean Paulet's voice was solemn, but also relieved. Perhaps the hypocrisy earlier was only the last straw; keeping all of this to himself was terribly tough. And David could see why they didn't want to let him know any of it.

He felt as though he couldn't breathe.

Not just his mother. Qubine had killed the whole team.

For him. Qubine lived for him. Rush was right, but he didn't even scratch the surface.

"I think our friend inherited not only the genius of his parents, but also many of their traits, and maybe their illnesses too. But his choices are his own, that is not your fault. We both know he is obsessive and quite mad, and we love him for it, hmm?"

"I... didn't trust him..."

"We'd talked about that. You couldn't trust because you couldn't believe that anyone would genuinely love you for everything that you are."

But Rowen did. And so did Qubine, from the very beginning.

But David could not even contemplate the possibility that Qubine's actions were out of the pure desire to improve his life. He didn't deserve it. Unconditional giving did not exist, certainly not to him, even though Jean Paulet had pointed out that Qubine was the sort of person who gave and never asked for anything in return.

In his head, it was much easier for him to demonise Qubine instead.

He wanted to lie down on the carpet and curl up into a ball.

"David? Are you okay?"

A hand over his eyes, David did his best not to crack.

"Just yesterday, I was telling Rush how my condition keeps taking everything away from me. But I just wasn't looking, was I?" He gasped. "I don't know how to explain to you, but I do still love Rowen. And I was in love with him with every fibre of my being. But I'd... never been able to let go of my feelings for Qubine. If I blamed him for everything, if I was angry at him, then I wouldn't have had to deal with those feelings."

After a moment, there was a soft sigh. "Do you know what I say in situations like these?" Jean Paulet asked. "I'm only here to listen. God will be the judge."

"A convenient cop out." David could not help but laugh even in this situation. "If you think I'm a hopeless slut you can just say it."

"Oh no, mon ami, I would never think of you like that. But you are a putain."

"What does that mean?"

"Whore."

"Sounds so much better in the dead language, cardinal." David laughed, head lowering into his knees, shoulders shaking. Jean Paulet really did know how to change the mood of a conversation with just a few words.

There was some rustling, and then an arm was put across David's shoulders.

"Don't blame yourself. He just did a splendid job making sure you didn't find out."

"If I was still with Rowen you would never have told me any of this."

A soft sigh. "No, I would not."

"Because you two just want me to be happy."

"That's right." Jean Paulet squeezed David's shoulders. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? How about a tea and some chocolate biscuit and crisps sandwiches?"

David really could not love his friend more. "If we have the crisps as the filling this time."

"Well yes, having biscuit between crisps last time was just far too silly." Jean Paulet got up. "Sit tight, I'll be back."

"Go slow, don't run in your heels, you'll trip and hurt your pretty face."

"I'll take my time."

"Twenty minutes."

"Sure, mon ami."

David hoped twenty minutes would be enough for him to go through the crisis in his head and for the pain to become something more tolerable. And then, a break to soothe both his and Jean Paulet's feelings.

And after that, there was something he had to do.

 

Qubine had a dream.

In his dream, he was sleeping. Nothing unusual, he had had these often enough to know they were only dreams.

In this one, David had come into his room — it must be because they'd talked earlier in the day and now his brain would not rest — and Qubine made sure he didn't try to wake up, because then he really would wake up for real.

David stayed for a while, short enough to be lamentable, but long enough to feel like an eternity. And then he put something down and left.

 

He found something beside his head, on the pillow, when he woke up. Confused, he checked that he was truly awake and not in another layer of dream.

The box was familiar — he'd made it himself. The object inside was familiar — he had stared at it for long enough before that he could recognise it, and it was not the one he had originally put inside this box.

This was David's quartz.

The handwriting on the inside of the lid was also familiar, but the message unexpected:

_Please look after this for me._


	60. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted 3 chapters in 2 days, so please make sure you haven't accidentally skipped a chapter!
> 
> This is the final chapter of the story.

[AR1141, autumn/winter]

A piece of paper appeared over David's shoulder. Charlotte was glaring at him, again with that same I'd-like-to-wipe-you-off-the-face-of-Basel expression, but she didn't say anything because today he was supposed to be working for her brother, not her, and there were guests at the table.

She quickly enquired if the food and drinks were satisfactory, and left just as fast. The piece of paper was snatched away from David, folded, then slipped inside David's jacket pocket. "You're working for me today, not for her," said Jean Paulet.

"Of course. Because we are clearly working hard."

"You have three jobs, mon ami. If I don't use some of your hours like this I'd never get to see you!"

It was an exaggeration, but only a small one. In time David would have to evaluate what he wanted to do with his life and make some decisions with regards to work, but not right now. For the time being he would give it his all, be it jobs from the hunters guild, working for Charlotte or being Jean Paulet's security consultant.

"Be that as it may, I'm still amazed you managed to pull this off."

"What do you mean?"

"Get together a group like this."

Rush and Rhagoh had picked their cakes from the counter and were returning to the table.

"What can I say, I'm a powerful man!"

"The only powerful thing you have is your voice," Qubine muttered. He put the lid back on his pen, closed his notebook and put them away in a pocket. From another pocket he produced a book, opening to a particular page without the aid of a bookmark. Qubine never needed bookmarks; he just memorised page numbers.

"Oh, Qu-bean, don't be jealous just because I have friends."

When Rhagoh and Rowen looked confused and somewhat alarmed, David smiled and shook his head.

It was just a normal day. His favourite kind of day.

It was still strange to see Rowen and Qubine in the same room, but it seemed like he was having far more problems with that than they were. He watched Rowen peer at the cover of Qubine's book, and Qubine lifting it a little to make the task easier.

"Ah, this. I've been meaning to read it but the copy I know of appears to have gone walkabout," said Rowen.

"I've taken it, this is the one. You can read it after me if you want."

"That would be great, thank you."

The exchange tickled David's curiosity, but Rush was faster.

"What's it about?"

"Lesbianism," said Qubine without looking up.

David really wished he could tell if Qubine was joking or not. Or did he? The way he could lie without pausing to think had made things far too complicated in the past, but it was this same skill, and his ability to deadpan, that made him so much fun to be around.

This time, for example, he could arch an eyebrow at Rowen as everyone's jaw dropped, and watch him resist making a long suffering sigh.

"That's not the novel's only theme."

"It's the main one," Qubine said, turning a page. "The other being necrophilia."

Even Rowen knew better than to argue with this man, or maybe Qubine was simply telling the truth. Either way, he said nothing more especially when Qubine, eyes still on the pages, reached inside yet another pocket and pulled out yet another book, putting it down next to Rowen's plate of cake.

"Try this. It should be your thing."

Now that Rowen had turned down the prelateship and brought more people onto his team, he could afford the time to read and to see friends like this. He had let Basel take control of his life before, but from David he had learned how important it was to regain control, he said. "Perhaps this is selfish," he had also said, and gestured for David not to interrupt even before David opened his mouth, "but it's also right."

David couldn't be prouder of him.

He put his tea down, sat back and just watched, because he knew he was going to wake up soon. Rush and Rhagoh were trying each other's cake. Qubine and Rowen looked almost like they were starting a little book club of some kind. Sitting next to David, Jean Paulet had the biggest grin on his face. Damn, David hated this kind of dream. That suffocating sense of loss when he woke up from it, turning over and pushing his face into his pillow in denial, trying to delve back into that happier life even if only for a few minutes. He hated it.

And then he realised this could not possibly be a dream when Jean Paulet tipped his head towards him and asked, in what he must have thought was a lowered voice:

"Correct me if I'm wrong, mon ami… am I the only person at this table you have not slept with?"

All conversations stopped. Eyes fell on David and he could feel that tiny prickle of his skin that meant he was starting to blush. Even Qubine glanced up from the pages of his book briefly. Glaring at Jean Paulet would help nothing now. There were several ways David could play this, perhaps he should just shrug and say "so what?"

And then Rush spoke, and David was saved.

"Wait… what… how did you…"

Stiffening in his chair, Rush's face had gone bright red. It was at this point David recalled that what went on between him and Rush was not supposed to be public information. He hadn't even told Jean Paulet.

Thankfully, Rhagoh just let out a gentle laugh. "I think we can all guess. Even Kate thought so."

David could not decide if he was more mortified for Rush or for himself. "I suppose I can't help it that I'm so desirable," he muttered, then busied himself with his coffee and watching Rush do the same. He would so get Jean Paulet back for this. It wasn't as if he was ashamed, but right now this was slightly too topical an issue, and he wasn't about to discuss his sex life with a group of friends and ex-boyfriends in front of Qubine.

And then, turning a page and eyes still lowered, Qubine said,

"What makes you think I'd slept with David?"

Ah well, if Qubine was happy to talk about it. This conversation was rapidly turning into a daytime TV gossip show.

Jean Paulet gasped. "You haven't?"

"No," said Qubine, as unconcerned as ever.

"But—"

"But he is very good at blowjobs."

David was not sure if he wanted to beam with pride or hide in mortification.

After another moment of stunned silence, Rhagoh nodded. "They were very good."

"Rhagoh!" David wasn't sure what he could say, so he put down his cup and planted his face on the table.

He heard a cough from Rowen's direction, and a voice slightly muffled by a hand. "You do have a talented mouth."

Oh, great. They were getting to Rowen. Soon Rowen would start behaving like the rest of them. And god help Basel then. "Verified and approved by the cardinal. Do I get a gold star?"

He could hear Jean Paulet giggling like a child, followed by Rush suddenly saying, "I never had one!"

"Rush, for ten years I kept telling you I'm good and you would've none of it. Now you complain?"

"I'm not complaining…"

"Rhagoh, control your man."

After a round of feet stomping and elbowing, Jean Paulet put a hand on David's shoulder.

"I'm really quite surprised, mon ami."

"That I haven't jumped his bones?"

"Oui."

"If you want to know why, ask your wife."

"Emmy?"

David eyed Qubine, who turned another page as though he had no interest in this conversation. "She said nothing too exerting until he puts more weight on."

There was a long, pregnant pause. And then Rowen, Rush, Rhagoh — their names all began with the same letter, David suddenly realised — and Jean Paulet all pushed their plates of cake towards Qubine, who lowered his book and surveyed the situation in dramatic slow motion.

"Even with all of this I won't gain weight that quickly."

The response he received was Jean Paulet dropping an extra sugar cube into his cup of tea.

"Bon appétit!"

 

David looked at the time, then made a phone call to check that Paris had got home safely after leaving the house an hour ago.

Hearing the conversation, Qubine looked a little puzzled, and asked after David put the receiver down, "is the bridge still unsafe at night time? There is a lighting system that should leave all areas illuminated."

"It's far better than it used to be, but Paris is my brother; I'll always worry about him even with Rush at his side..." said David, his voice trailing off, suddenly suspicious. 

Qubine considered the explanation provided, probably trying to make sense of it by comparing it to his experience with his own brother. Then he simply gave a slow nod and returned to his notebook, paying no attention when David sat down on the sofa next to him and gave him a look.

Hmm. The bastard was probably behind the lights at the bridge; they were installed just weeks after that not-date they had two years ago, when David told Qubine he always walked his visitors to at least the Lift after dark because otherwise they might end up losing their money, clothes, lives, or a combination of.

But if Qubine didn't want a big deal to be made out of it, then David wouldn't.

Beside him, Qubine stifled a yawn. David smiled, amused.

"You can rest your head on my lap, you know."

Qubine arched an eyebrow and turned a page. "That would be inconvenient for reading."

Romantic as ever, David thought fondly. After a moment though he felt weight against his side, the man beside him leaning over a little but seemingly unaware of it himself, his attention focused on the pages in front of him. Then his brows furrowed as if he had a moment of realisation.

David searched his pockets and took out a small red stone.

"A ruby for your thoughts?"

The snort that Qubine gave was nearly as long as the pause that came before it. He accepted the ruby, putting it inside an inner pocket of his usual coat, which was draped over the back of the sofa. Then he showed his notes to David.

"There is capacity for two more connections at these points."

"Connections for what?"

Qubine blinked, and then realised he had not given the context. "This is the schematic for a power grid, which would enable electricity generated anywhere in Basel to be used to satisfy demand elsewhere. It's aimed at addressing power poverty at the lower levels."

"I see." And David did, when it was explained this way. But there was one more thing he wanted to know. "And why is there a dick doodle?"

He pointed at it — it was hard to believe but there was no mistaking the cartoon cock and balls on the lower corner of the page, drawn in the same brown ink used everywhere else.

Qubine didn't seem to think much of it. "That's Jean Paulet."

That still made no sense whatsoever. Qubine: scientist, mathematician, engineer, and dick doodle artist? "Why did you draw JP's dick? Or do you mean he drew it?"

"It's not a picture of his genitals. It's a complete portrait of him."

David shifted away a little so that he could raise an eyebrow and stare at Qubine. Qubine held his stare for a while before shrugging, totally nonchalant. Then he closed the notebook, casually tossing it aside as David laughed and laughed.

He stopped laughing when Qubine yawned again, and moved around until he could lie down on his side, his head on David's lap and his favourite coat used as a blanket.

Something this simple could make David's eyes well up. Perhaps exactly because it was so simple, and it was all he ever wanted.

"Tired?" He brushed the hair away from Qubine's face, which had filled out a little again, his cheekbones no longer looking heartbreakingly sharp.

"Yes."

"I do have a bed you know."

Eyes that had only just slid shut opened again. Qubine sat up, stood, and headed towards David's room. At the door he stopped, and looked at David quite confusedly.

"Aren't you coming?"

David took a deep breath and made sure he wasn't going to burst into tears and become an embarrassing mess before standing as well, going to join his other half.

"We're seeing JP tomorrow. Maybe you can show him the portrait."

"He already knows how I think of him. But perhaps I should've drawn an anus instead."

"Aw, you love him really."

Jean Paulet was to Qubine what Rush and Rowen were to David. They would not be here now if not for these people, and their bonds were not incestuous, as Qubine liked to call them, or nepotistic, as David sometimes said. Their bonds were simply that of love. Long before Jean Paulet gathered the broken pieces of Qubine back together and nursed him back to health, they had already loved each other, the same way David loved Rush and Rowen.

"Take that back right now, David."

But Qubine would not be Qubine if he did not strenuously deny the fact, and this was the Qubine David loved — genuine yet disingenuous, naive yet manipulative, exceedingly smart yet incredibly slow.

And David loved him just as he was, and would not change anything for the world, be it Basel or the one beyond.

"Come on. Let's go to bed."

 

 [end]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took about a year to write, and there's so much I can talk about that I don't even know where to begin (maybe I'll come back and edit these notes one day), so for now I'll just leave this here:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Heard you today, that isn't my name, you were fast asleep,  
> Forget what he did, can I be the kid for your soul to keep.  
> Some of us laugh, some of us cry,  
> Some of us smoke, some of us lie,  
> But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.
> 
>  
> 
> I've grown to see the philosophy of my own mistrust,   
> We all have our faults, mine come in waves that you turn to rust,  
> Some of us laugh, some of us cry,  
> Some of us smoke, some of us lie,  
> But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.
> 
>  
> 
> I've been hanging onto something,  
> You keep laughing awe-inspiring.
> 
>  
> 
> Some of us laugh, some of us cry,   
> Some of us smoke, some of us lie,  
> But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.  
> Some of us laugh, some of us cry,  
> Some of us smoke, some of us lie,  
> But it's all just the way that we cope with our lives.
> 
>  
> 
> My wandering soul found solace at last,   
> I wanted to know how long it would last.  
> She's losing control, she's coming down fast,  
> The heart that I stole, I'm not giving back, never giving back.
> 
>  
> 
> \- "Some of Us", written & performed by Starsailor


End file.
